Just Another Coming of Age Story
by Quill To Parchment
Summary: In some ways, their lives were not much different from all the other 17-year-olds out there, with friendship and heartbreak, difficult lessons and moments of joy. Except for that bit about the Dark Lord coming to power, of course. And the fact that they were Marauders: And theirs was never going to be just another coming of age story. James/Lily, Sirius/Remus (queerplatonic).
1. Summer 1977: Tea and Things

**SUMMER 1977**

* * *

James Potter being Head Boy was, by far, the worst thing to happen to Lily Evans.

She had had nightmares about this, complete with Dumbledore gazing at her in a maddeningly calm way, Potter sitting across from her looking half-amused, half-sheepish, and two golden Head badges shining triumphantly in the middle of the table atop a stack of parchments. She had not, though, envisioned it happening at her local neighborhood coffee shop—_Tea and Things_, which she'd generally, up until then, associated with pleasant memories, thank you very much—in her dingy Muggle town, on a lazy Thursday afternoon, a couple weeks before her final year of school.

Dumbledore, for his part, looked unperturbed and inexplicably at home despite the fact that he was wearing long wizard robes of majestic purple, sporting his characteristic three-foot beard and half-mooned spectacles. His attire was garnering not a small amount of attention from the other patrons of the coffee store, much to Lily's chagrin, but she hoped they'd pass him off as another one of Lily's strange friends. It was a small town, and folks knew one another. Lily was gone most of the year, and while her parents had fabricated a convincing story about her going to an elite boarding school, Petunia spent most of the time making it very clear that Lily was the black sheep of the family and had been "dumped in a loony-bin, for her own safety, you know." As such, whenever Lily returned home for the summer, she was treated like a curiosity by most of the people in the neighborhood. It didn't help that she also mostly kept to herself, adding to the air of mystery around her. Truth be told, Lily had always been a bit of a loner, preferring to read books in her room rather than go on day trips to the city with the other kids as Petunia liked to do when mum and dad let her.

To his credit, James Potter did not look as out of place as Dumbledore did. He wore muggle clothes—a deep red plaid shirt with his sleeves rolled up and dark blue jeans. His hair looked perplexingly messy, like a child had drawn it, but it always did, sticking out in all sorts of odd angles in a thick nest atop his head. He had claimed another inch over the summer and Lily saw a slight stubble smattering his jaw, making him look older than she remembered him looking. He was avoiding looking at Lily, his deliberate nonchalance betraying the tenseness in his shoulders and his hands placed deliberately in his lap. It didn't matter to her where he was looking, she had ignored him since the moment he'd entered the shop and made her drop her tea with an angry yelp.

Now, Lily crumpled the paper napkin she had grabbed off the table in her fist, taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out, raising her eyes to meet the Headmaster's.

"I'm sorry, sir," Lily said coolly, though her heart beat frantically under the blanket of despair that was settling atop her chest, "I don't understand."

"Ah, I do apologize if that is my doing, Ms. Evans. Please, if you will, clarify for me what is troubling you?"

_That you're clearly off your rocker_, Lily wanted to yell. Instead, she gritted her teeth and said, "I don't _understand_, sir, how … what on earth … why did you make _him_ Head Boy?"

Lily saw James wince from the corner of her eye but ignored him.

Dumbledore did not look angry, instead gazing at her evenly. "I and the professors of Hogwarts all agree that Mr. Potter is more than capable of taking up the mantle of Head Boy. We have considered, holistically, how he has performed during his time at Hogwarts and his marked improvement of recent, and we are of the opinion that there really could be nobody more suitable for the task."

"Nobody more—Headmaster, if I may, as far as qualifications go, I hardly think a boy who spent his time blowing up toilets is the best role model for the student body."

"She has a point," James conceded sheepishly, speaking for the first time since they had all settled down at the table, "Although, it was only one toilet and I quite meant to blow up the sink."

Lily made a noise of exasperation and flung out her arm in James's direction, looking straight at the Headmaster as if to say, _well_?

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know of any school rules that say a student guilty of blowing up a urinal cannot be Head Boy."

"Wicked," James breathed in awe.

"Sir—" Lily began heatedly.

"—Ms. Evans," Dumbledore said with a firmness that made Lily close her mouth, "If you are insinuating that neither I nor your respected professors are capable of making educated assessments of our own students, I would reconsider."

"That's not … what I meant," Lily muttered to her lap, her cheeks flaming up in anger and shame. She balled her fists tighter, feeling her nails on her palms through the wad of paper in her hands. It just wasn't _fair_. James Potter was the bane of her existence and Dumbledore inexplicably, maddeningly, insisted on making sure it stay that way. She, Lily, had been a star student, a good role model, and a strong leader for all her six years at Hogwarts. She had been smart about following rules, making sure she did not besmirch her spotless record and that she stayed in the good books of all her professors. She had earned this.

James Potter, on the other hand, had shown indifference for the rules, his record, or the good word of his teachers, flagrantly disregarding all of the above and acting in all the ways one should not if one wished to become Head Boy someday. And now, he was being rewarded for it.

It just reeked of unfairness.

"I understand the two of you have not quite gotten along in the past," Dumbledore said, more kindly this time, "But I assure you, Ms. Evans, Mr. Potter has demonstrated exemplary leadership qualities in the last two years that lead me to believe he is qualified and up to the task. It might surprise you to know that a little over a year ago, he single-handedly saved another student—Severus Snape—from a grievous harm, and perhaps even death. I cannot reveal more about this incident without compromising information that is not mine to compromise, but I assure you, Mr. Potter conducted himself with impressive responsibility and bravery."

James no longer looked light-hearted or amused, suddenly dropping his gaze back down to the table and slumping slightly in his seat almost as if he was embarrassed. Lily regarded him appraisingly, still heavily doubtful that James Potter could do anything with a modicum of responsibility or bravery. But she knew Dumbledore hadn't been tricked—she'd heard the rumors when it had happened, and though Sev had been very adamantly tight-lipped about the details, she had surmised that the rumors were at least a little bit true: James Potter had indeed saved Severus from _something_.

"Sir," James said, his voice unnaturally subdued, "Jokes aside, I, er, I have to agree with Evans."

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Potter?"

It was James's turn to squirm uncomfortably in his seat, something Lily had never really seen him do, and it mystified her. "I don't think I should be Head Boy. I think there's been a mistake, and you should've given it to Moon—Remus, honestly, or really anybody else, and I-I can't accept it. I'm sorry."

He glanced at Lily, who didn't protest. She rather agreed with James on this one.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, regarding James keenly over his spectacles, "I don't mean to pry, but is there something else you'd like to tell me?"

James looked embarrassed, but resolutely maintained eye contact with Dumbledore. "Erm. Well. I-I'm actually not sure if I'll be coming back this year, sir."

This surprised even Lily, who looked up suddenly at James.

Dumbledore's eyes softened. "I understand the difficult choice you have before you, Mr. Potter, but I would urge you not to make any lasting commitments yet without careful consideration. After all, it may feel, in times of strife, that it is incumbent upon us to act, even while the best and yet most challenging thing to do is, instead, continue on."

Lily remained silent, watching the proceedings curiously. James looked uncharacteristically somber, eyebrows furrowed as he chewed his lips in thought.

"At least, take some time to consider it," Dumbledore said gently. "You are always welcome to rescind at a later time if you so feel the need."

James nodded slowly. Lily wasn't sure what had happened, but Dumbledore seemed satisfied and she knew that was the end of that conversation.

"Well, then!" Dumbledore said, weaving his fingers together under his chin as he looked happily from James's subdued face to Lily's sour one, "I am thrilled to officially offer you both the positions of Head Girl and Head Boy of Hogwarts. I and your professors are confident that the two of you will do most admirably."

James and Lily muttered their thanks, failing to match Dumbledore's unbridled enthusiasm.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement, but he continued calmly, "Your badges are yours to keep, of course, and I urge you to wear them during regular school hours. Often, the Head Girl and Boy hold a meeting aboard the Hogwarts Express in order to become acquainted with the rest of the prefects and assign duties. I will leave that to the two of you to arrange. I have made available a list—" Dumbledore gracefully gestured toward the parchments lying underneath the badges, "—of the prefects who have accepted their positions this year. Please do get in touch with them post haste. You will all be in charge of seeing the first-years to their dorms the first night back. We will then meet the next morning with the Heads of Houses to discuss what is expected of you for the year. Are there any questions?"

James and Lily shook their heads.

"Marvelous. In that case, I will see you both at the beginning of term."

"Sir—" James interrupted.

"—Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said calmly, holding up a hand that made James shut his mouth instantly, "I really must insist that you take just a few more days to ponder your decision before you come to me with your answer. I have the utmost faith in your capabilities, and perhaps speaking to you friends and family may help you feel the same."

James looked doubtful, but said nothing, nodding.

"Splendid," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. James and Lily started to rise as well. "No, no, sit, I insist, I must be off, but I am sure you both will have much to talk about, and this is quite the lovely spot to do it in. Might I suggest trying their steamed caffeinated beverages—espresso, I believe they call it. Quite charming."

Lily almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of this entire situation.

With a little bow, Dumbledore floated toward the door as if gliding on ice, and the people around him turned to follow his graceful progress out the door. Hardly had the little bell at the front door of the café tinkled to Dumbledore's departure before Lily turned her head sharply back to James. He could feel the intensity of the anger simmering beneath her pursed lips and clenched jaw like a wave of heat from a radiator. His hands were suddenly clammy, but he calmly placed them face down on his lap, looking anywhere but straight at her and whistling softly under his breath.

"So?" She asked, an impatient edge creeping into her voice. "Are you going to do it?"

"Head Boy?" James asked.

"No, Dumbledore's personal courtesan."

"Can't. Already signed on for McGonagall. Would be a conflict of interest."

The corners of Lily's lips twitched upwards in the slightest.

Head Boy. The words tasted so strange on his tongue, like something foreign and unfamiliar. Could he be Head Boy? Miles away from Sirius's jovial guffaws and Remus's gentle encouragement and Peter's unbridled admiration, sitting here in this little coffee shop with Lily was the first time James really turned it over in his head. Did he want to be Head Boy?

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Why?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Is it too _uncool_ for the great James Potter?"

"No," James said defensively. He felt the muscles on the back of his neck stiffen, felt his frustration crawling up his spine like an annoying bug, making him squirm. He called it his Lily-bug—the little itch that would present itself whenever she looked at him with unmistakable dislike—and it would coordinate with his adrenaline to make an utter fool of him when he was around her. Why was she so very good at getting under his skin like that, with the simplest of insinuations? What did it matter what she thought of him, after so many years?

He exhaled slowly and smiled at her zen-like from across the table. Things were different now. He was different now. His life had taken a sobering turn and he did not have time for fleeting facies and chasing after girls. He and Lily were peers, and that was that.

Lily tossed her head in response like she was trying to get rid of a particularly irksome fly and stared fixedly at the landscape portrait of a waterfall that hung on the wall next to their table. Her arms were still crossed, and James could tell she was jiggling her foot from the restless way her body moved in her chair. She had grown paler, if possible, over the summer, making her red hair—which had claimed a few more inches—stand out even more starkly against her heart-shaped faced. She was much less scrawny than before: The summer had been good to her, and the sharp edges of her joints, hips, and legs had smoothed over and rounded, blending seamlessly into the vast expanses of soft skin that covered the gentle bumps of her stomach, arms, and thighs. But James thought the weight looked good on her, making her appear older and more graceful.

"What was the incident with Severus?" Lily asked suddenly, turning back to him.

"Confidential," James reminded her cheerfully, bringing his hands out from under the table and clasping them together, leaning his weight on his elbows.

Lily narrowed her eyes at him slightly, catching the hard edge of warning in his voice. She remained undeterred. "And why won't you be returning to school?" she pressed.

"Why, will you miss me?" James asked her without missing a beat.

Lily made a noise of disgust and abruptly stood up from her chair, the legs dragging against the wooden floor loudly as it was pushed back away from the table. She stood with her feet slightly apart, her arms stiff by her side and the sunlight behind her illuminating her copper hair with a formidable glow. The couple sitting behind her glanced back at them surreptitiously, but Lily didn't seem to notice.

"If you're going to be like that, I don't see any point in me staying," Lily told him coldly.

James watched her eyes flash as she spoke, and his eyebrows shot up, alarmed. He stretched his arm out across the table toward her, patting the tabletop in a gesture for her to sit down. "Ah come now, Evans, you won't stand a man up before his coffee has even arrived, would you?"

She slid her hands unhurriedly into the pockets of her shorts, blinking at him slowly as if to say, _try me_.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—here, sit, I'll behave." James raised his arms up in surrender, a small smile ghosting across his lips.

Lily considered him carefully for a few seconds and then lowered herself slowly back into her chair. She eased herself into her former position—legs and arms crossed, chin up as she looked calmly at him down the length of her nose.

James began whistling softly under his breath again, drumming his long, bony fingers against the tabletop rhythmically, at ease and unperturbed by her contrasting restlessness. Yet Lily sensed something was different about him, something that was difficult to place. A microscopic shift in his mannerism. While he retained largely the same devil-may-care air as he always had, every casual movement of his body felt a little more calculated, every muscle a little more tightly wound, his eyes a tad shiftier. It put her on edge, like seeing clouds in the distant horizon on a deceptively sunny day.

"Are you dropping out because of your father?" Lily blurted the moment the thought struck her like lightening and she immediately winced at how tactlessly she had said it.

James's movements came to a staggering halt for a split second, but he resumed tapping the table almost immediately, albeit more quietly. He was looking at her, but there was no hostility. Just wariness. "Er. Yes."

"He's sick," Lily confirmed, "Isn't he?"

"Yeah. Uh, yeah, Dragonpox."

"I'm sorry," Lily said, and she meant it, her voice slightly subdued. It was only then that she had the grace to look a little bit mortified at her brazenness.

James shrugged, not seeming to care. "How did you know?"

"Marlene told me."

"Right."

Someone stepped up to the edge of their table just then, throwing a shadow over them. It was the brown-haired waitress from before, and she dipped her knees to lower a large china cup onto their table, trilling, "Your coffee, sir!" as she did.

"Thank you," James said with a wide, earnest smile.

The waitress smiled at him coyly, regarding him through her lashes. "Need anything else?"

"I'm smashing, thanks," James said. The waitress's lips quirked upwards, her finger twirling a strand of her hair as her gaze lingered deliberately on James. He didn't seem to notice, but was looking at Lily. The waitress glanced at Lily too, and Lily looked down at the table with forced nonchalance, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of multiple eyes. She grabbed the paper napkin beside her empty cup and started to tear at the edges as she was wont to do to channel her nervous energy. She could feel James's eyes on her even as she heard the waitress's heels clicking on the floor as she walked away.

Lily looked up just in time to watch the waitress walk through the double doors that led to the kitchen. She turned back to James, who averted his eyes, looking almost apologetically down at his own lap.

Lily cleared her throat, rolling a small piece of the paper napkin she had torn off into a ball between her thumb and middle finger. "So, er. How's your summer been?"

She regretted asking this almost instantly, slapping herself mentally as James raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Well," he said slowly, but she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, "It's been pretty excellent all in all. Although sometimes dad mistakes me for a potted plant. That part's a bit of a downer."

"Right," Lily said at the same time she exhaled slowly, feeling the awkwardness heat up her skin like a slow, caustic burn. "Erm. Sorry."

But James waved away her concern with a motion of his hand, not seeming to mind the tactless question. "Nah, it's fine. It's been fine. And what about you? Enjoying the hols?"

Lily shrugged, resting her chin on her palm as she nudged the little paper ball back and forth on the table. "It's been fine. Nothing much to do, nothing happens here."

"Here?" James asked, frowning as he looked around the shop. His eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, hang on—do you live around here?"

"Right around the corner and then two blocks down."

"I was wondering why Dumbledore had us come all the way to Cokeworth, the old codger. I didn't know," James marveled. "That must be real swell."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked.

James shrugged, smiling around as he gave his surroundings a once-over as if through a new lens. "This place is nice. This shop. Do you come here a lot?"

"To read, sometimes," she admitted, tearing off a new piece of paper from her napkin. "It's really the only interesting place around here. There isn't much else. There's Spinner's End a few blocks that way, Tuney—my sister—and I would play there sometimes as children, and I used to spend time there in the summer with—"

She suddenly paused, catching James's eyes and holding them defiantly as she finished, "—with Severus."

James's expression of amicable curiosity didn't change as he nodded, much to Lily's surprise, although she could've sworn his lips thinned just the slightest.

"Have you seen him this summer?" James asked, still amicable. He wasn't sure why he was asking her, only that he knew he would never understand why they were friends but his desire to get along with Lily at this point outweighed his extreme dislike for Severus Snape. He didn't have to hex him in front of her, after all.

Lily was eyeing him suspiciously, squaring her shoulders. "No, I haven't." She didn't elaborate, even as James found himself wanting to know why that was, whether they were still friends. He held his tongue.

"Have you seen anybody else this summer?" James asked instead, trying to detract from the topic that so obviously was responsible for the sudden tension in the room.

Still wary, she shrugged. "Marlene was here for a week, before she went off abroad with her folks."

"That's too bad."

"I've gotten used to it, I'll live."

"Don't you go on trips much?"

"Well, unlike you and Mar, my family isn't rolling in ancestral inheritance," Lily said dryly, but it was not malicious. "But—we go to the countryside sometimes. And sometimes we visit my aunt in Wales. That's about it, really. We took the train to Paris once when I was young, that was nice."

James ruffled his hair sheepishly. "We used to go every summer too—this summer we didn't for obvious reasons. But it's been kind of nice, I think. Mum and dad can be such _tourists_. When we went to Sicily, mum spent _galleons_ at the shop where they were selling little Odysseus figurines with swords. It kept mistaking my thumb for Cyclops and stabbing it, damn little bugger."

Lily laughed, and it sent a jolt through James's spine. It wasn't a delicate, small noise, rather a large, bubbly outburst that washed over James in a wave of warmth. He liked that she did not hold back, or cover her mouth when she laughed, or turn her face away or giggle into a napkin.

James found himself grinning at her. "I can bring one back for you next time."

Lily rolled her eyes, "And what would I use it for, pray tell?"

"To remind you of me, of course, and the sharp pain of unrequited love."

Lily swatted his comment away like it was dust in front of her face, but she didn't look angry—her lips hovered somewhere between a severe line of disapproval and a reluctant smile. "More like a reminder of what a sharp pain in the ass you are. And you don't love me."

"Don't I?" Lily looked up quickly at this and was met with a curiously somber expression on James's face as he regarded her closely. She blushed again and dropped her gaze, clearing her throat.

"So, er, I suppose I should leave you to it," Lily said awkwardly, grabbing another paper napkin off the table to fidget with.

"Nonsense," James said, back to his cheerful self, "Your company is very valuable to me. Especially because I haven't an inkling how to pay for myself in Muggle money."

But the matter was taken out of James's hands when the waitress sashayed back to their table with a trilled _here's your check, sir_, and she hovered by James's shoulder with a paper receipt and a pen. She tucked her hair behind her ear, no longer looking as pleasant as she did before as she glanced between Lily and James with a slightly nettled expression. James didn't seem to notice, taking the check from her with a winning smile.

"Thanks."

"Just leave it at the table when you're done. Have a nice day," she said airily, but she was walking away before she even finished her sentence.

James intelligently refrained from making any remarks about the waitress, instead squinting at the receipt and adjusting his glasses. He reached one hand into his pocket, fishing around for a few seconds before pulling out a wad of notes and coins and dumping them onto the table.

"Evans, will you be so kind as to help me figure out which bits are worth what?"

"Give it here," Lily said, taking the receipt from James and pulling the mound of money toward her, leaving behind a trail of coins.

"Thanks," James said gratefully, "Remus usually sorts out the Muggle money for us."

She would never admit this to James, but she found it endearing that he often used 'us' to refer to the Marauders rather than simply 'me' for himself, as if they were one unit. "What would you do without him," Lily said mocking, smiling to herself at the mention of her friend as she nudged aside a couple coins and a note.

"What indeed," James said solemnly.

Lily pushed the remaining money back toward James and gathered the rest in her palm, letting them slip from her fingers onto to the table next to the receipt. "Well, there you are. I left her a nice little tip too, for her all graciousness." She said the last bit with a hint of derision.

"You're a lifesaver, Evans," James sighed, getting to his feet and stretching. He really was very tall, Lily noted absently, as James unfurled his arms and raised them above his head, rotating his neck. Lily got up as well, gathering her things in silence.

"Don't mention it," she said, shouldering her bag. They stood looking at each other uncertainly. James looked like he was going to say something, ruffling his hair with one hand as he often did around her and peering at her from above the rims of his glasses. Lily raised an eyebrow challengingly, bracing herself for something outrageous or pompous or equally obnoxious.

"Well," James said abruptly, sticking both his hands in his pockets, "I'll see you around then."

"Yep," Lily said awkwardly, fiddling with the straps of her bag. James opened his mouth but closed it again, and shuffled toward the entrance, giving her a final weak smile as he backed away.

"Ta, Evans. Thanks for the coffee and company."

And just like that, he flung open the tinkling front door—startling a couple that sat on a small circular table next to the entrance—and shot out onto the streets, his body a haphazardly put-together assortment of uneasy energy, restlessness, and athletic limbs. Lily watched him through the decorated window as he walked with quick, long strides, exuding the contradictory synergy of nervousness and confidence that was so characteristic of him. He didn't look back as he left, nor did he hesitate, turning abruptly as he disappeared from around the corner moments later. Lily continued looking out the hazy windows with a slight frown, fingering the straps of her bag. In all her years of Hogwarts, that was perhaps the longest conversation she'd had with Potter and it was … alright. Pleasant. Civil. Amicable. But strange—very strange.

She didn't quite know what to make of it.


	2. Summer 1977: Sleipnir

**SUMMER 1977**

* * *

"Where will you be tonight, again?"

Remus placed his teacup on the saucer and blinked at his aunt through his fringe. Aunt Edith was stirring her own cup of tea, the spoon clinking rhythmically as it ran circles in the hot liquid. It was dark out—Remus and his father has spent the whole day moving their things from their house in Little Hampton to Aunt Edith's place near London—and by the time they'd pulled into Aunt Edith's gravel driveway, the sun had already set, and the sky had turned into a deep, peacock blue.

Moving had been Remus's idea. Much of his childhood had been spent moving from one small, inconspicuous town to another as his parents avoided people finding out about his condition. The last place they had lived had lasted the Lupins close to seven years—it was a muggle town with a few thousand people, and while most of the neighbors knew each other, all the houses were far apart, separated by fields and forests and creeks. Being muggle, the townsfolks didn't pick up on the lunar patterns. That had been a problem in the city, where the Lupins' wizarding neighbors had become suspicious after matching Remus's absences to the lunar calendar—they were Indian—and noticing that he went missing every full moon.

But Little Hampton didn't seem to care, and Mr. and Mrs. Lupin had lived a peaceful, happy life the last seven years tending to their farm, taking out the old car on the weekends to drive to the local market, ice-skating on the river just beyond their hill, and taking walks in the forest that spilled over into their backyard, creeping past the picket fence that Remus had helped Mr. Lupin paint. In so many ways, they had made it their home.

The Lupins had been adamant about not leaving, partially because they had come to really love Little Hampton, but also because they refused to accept what Remus had been implying—that he wasn't coming back after he was done with Hogwarts. Once he was gone, they would no longer need all that space, nor would they need to live in isolated, secluded towns in the forgotten reaches of Great Britain. Without Remus, they could be free to live wherever they wished, wherever they could afford.

When first Remus suggested the move, Hope had pursed her lips and hadn't said another word, but Remus knew she knew he was right, and John knew she wouldn't protest if he insisted. She did not want to be the one to kick out her son. John and Hope never wanted Remus to feel that he was in any way, a burden.

But that was what it always came down to—a choice between Remus and what was best for them. That was why Remus could not come back. They had sacrificed enough for him.

It was his father who had caved first, agreeing quietly at breakfast one week after Remus had returned from school and 387 days after Remus had first brought it up. It was because Hope had forgotten once again what day it was—the third time that week, and John had looked at her with concern laced in his eyes. She had always been a little peculiar and scatterbrained, but she was forgetting more and more.

They were staying with Aunt Edith, John's sister, in a suburb just a short way from London, until the Lupins were able to find themselves a permanent place. Hope had taken the train, stopping for a night at her brother's to pay him a visit. John and Remus had stayed back and loaded everything in their car, choosing to make the five-hour drive from Little Hampton to Aunt Edith's rather than apparate. John had gotten used to living like a muggle, partially because of his wife and partially because of their neighbors. Remus preferred it that way, because then he could take a long last look at the dusty roads and pastures and town square and trees that had become a staple of his summer ever since he was a boy.

"James's," Remus replied to Aunt Edith.

"James Potter?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Good family, the Potters. Good values."

Remus felt if Aunt Edith spent more than a day in James's company, she would be substantially less impressed by the wealthy Potter heir. Aunt Edith turned to look at Mr. Lupin, who was seated at the dining table. "Have you met the boy?"

"A couple times," came Mr. Lupin's muffled reply from behind the newspaper he was reading the obscured his face. "Hope has, more so than I."

"How does she like him?"

"Well enough, though Sirius is her favorite."

"Sirius Black?" Aunt Edith asked, one eyebrow shooting up. Sirius's reputation preceded him, and Aunt Edith was not similarly impressed with Remus's second friend.

Mr. Lupin shrugged like he had long given up trying to understand why Mrs. Lupin had taken to Sirius Black.

"Isn't his family all nutters?" Aunt Edith pressed.

"He's alright, though," Remus said vaguely. Aunt Edith looked doubtful but dropped the subject.

"When can we expect you back?"

She was looking expectantly at Remus. She was, in some ways, more motherly than Hope, insofar as she was always keeping tabs on Remus. Remus wasn't used to this—Hope didn't much keep track of where Remus was and what he was doing. When your son is werewolf, there is only so much more trouble he could get into. Once Remus had proven trustworthy enough to keep his own secrets, the Lupin couple had backed off. And Remus had learned to keep secrets disturbingly quickly.

"In a couple days," Remus said.

There was a rustling of paper at the dining table as Mr. Lupin peeked from behind the unfolded newspaper that has been obscuring his face. His hair—thick, brown, and shockingly identical to his son's—threw a shadow over his tired face.

"You're not flooing over?" Mr. Lupin asked hopefully. Mr. Lupin had been very enthusiastic about the availability of floo at Aunt Edith's. Little Hampton was too far for the Floo Network to reach and the Lupins did not have the kind of money the Potters had who, despite also living far from the reach of most civilization, were able to pay for a personal floo extension to their home.

Remus shrugged. "Sirius said he would come fetch me. He said he had something he wanted me to see."

"So long as he doesn't blow anything up," Mr. Lupin grumbled, returning to his paper. Remus suppressed a smile.

Aunt Edith was squinting out the window. "Are the dishes done, Remus?"

"Yes."

Mr. Lupin reemerged from behind the paper distractedly. "You need to get your registration done."

Remus's heart sank immediately. "I know."

Aunt Edith looked back at Mr. Lupin sharply. "He hasn't gotten it done yet?"

"I will," Remus said forcefully, feeling a dull ache in his chest. He had between his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday to put his name down in the Ministry of Magic's Werewolf Registry, something he had been putting off since March. Now that they were near London, it would be easy enough to go to the Ministry and get it done, but Remus was in no hurry.

Aunt Edith had already moved on from the topic and was squinting suspiciously at something outside the window she'd been manning. "Blast it—Remus, there is a suspicious boy who's parked his motorcycle outside and is smoking a damn _cigarette_ amidst the tulips, if he belongs to you please take care of him before I chase him away with my garden hose—"

Remus had already risen to his feet, abandoning the cup of tea that sat on the coffee table in front of him, and was on his way toward the front door before she finished her sentence. He threw on a cloak and swung his tattered bag over his shoulder. He was walking so quickly that Mr. Lupin's head snapped up with an audible _click_, watching the fast-moving figure with weary eyes. Remus's aunt, who was pinching the side of her glasses as she squinted daggers out the windows, did not have a chance to turn around before she was cut short by the slamming front door.

"Tell him not to scare the neighbors," Mr. Lupin called out to nobody in particular, hoping Remus heard him on the other side of the door. "And floo us once you get there!"

Remus took the tiled stairs of the building by twos, his shoes slapping rhythmically against the ground. He grabbed the banister to launch himself around the corners, his breath coming down heavily by the time he threw open the building door and strode purposefully into the dry, chilly evening. The biting air embraced his bare forearms—he had his sleeves rolled back from helping Aunt Edith in the kitchen and hadn't gotten a chance to throw on his cloak—but he hardly noticed, and his face split into a grin as his eyes locked with the twin grey ones that gazed back at him steadily.

"Wotcher, Moony," Sirius said, pursing his lips as he blew out a steady stream of smoke that mingled with his visibly frosty breath to give a grander effect to the plume that hung in front of his face. He was half-sitting on a motorcycle, arms crossed as his lit cigarette dangled lazily between his slender fingers. His hair had grown since Remus had last seen him two months ago, the coal-black tips gracefully brushing against his shoulders. Sirius jerked his head to throw his fringe out of his eyes and fixed Remus with an equally ear-splitting grin.

"Aunt Edith thinks you are a delinquent and plans to run you out of town with a pitchfork," Remus informed him, but his smile dampened the solemnity with which he meant to convey his aunt's message.

"I resent that, I am _not_ a delinquent. I'm as pure of heart as they come," Sirius insisted with mock offense, splaying his hand flat over his heart. His nails were painted black, matching his leather jacket and dark shirt that, together with his ripped jeans and heavy boots, served to entirely undermine this statement of his purity. "I hope you corrected the record?"

"I told her I hadn't the foggiest who was trampling the flowers but advised her that an offense so egregious must not go unavenged," Remus said. He stopped a couple feet away from Sirius, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocking slightly back on his heels.

"Is she aware her nephew is a werewolf?" Sirius raised his eyebrow. He tossed his cigarette on the ground and buried it into the soil with the heel of his boot.

"Yes, but really let's not detract from the real problem here, Padfoot, which is the flowers—Agh!" Remus was cut off as Sirius flung his arms around Remus's neck and dragged him forward into an exaggerated embrace. Padfoot had always gravitated toward physical intimacy with his friends like a hungry puppy starved for attention, having received little from his own family growing up. But this embrace felt more loaded, more calculated. Remus was acutely aware of all the places on his body that were making contact with Sirius's, and from the way Sirius held himself a little more stiffly than usual, Remus knew the other boy felt the same uncertainty. It wasn't bad, or hostile, it was just … different. But then again, things were different now.

Attempting to keep the atmosphere playful, Remus pretended to huff and struggle a little against the hold, feeling strange and nervous, but when Sirius made a mewling noise of protest and only gripped him tighter, Remus relented and relaxed, burying his face into Sirius's shoulder and clutching at his leather jacket. The familiarity of the smells hit him first, filling him up like warm cider on a cold day. Sirius smelled like cigarettes and soil and wet dog, his hair tickling the tip of Remus's nose as he breathed in deep. Remus smiled to himself and thought, _yes, this lot belongs to me_.

He felt Sirius's arm behind him shift and simultaneously heard the rustle of clothing. Immediately, Remus pushed Sirius away with a disapproving squawk, putting enough distance between them for him to be able to turn his head and see what was going on behind his back.

"Sirius _honestly_, she's a nice old lady don't antagonize her with rude—gestures—," Remus said distractedly, frowning as he tried to look over his own shoulder at Sirius's hidden hands. He heard a window slam shut somewhere in the building behind him.

Sirius gave up his ministrations and pulled back to grasp Remus's shoulder, holding him at arm's length, grinning at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Calm your dancing tits my dear Moonykins, I would never insult a member of your family."

"Hmm," Remus responded, unconvinced.

"Where's your mum? She likes me enough for both our families combined," Sirius asked, gazing up past Remus at the building.

Remus sidestepped Sirius and began walking toward the motorcycle that was indeed choking some daisies and tulips under its rugged wheels. "She's not home. You can meet her when we come back. Did you come all the way here by road?"

Sirius snorted from behind him. "What do you take me for, a plebian? I didn't choose to take Muggle Studies and Charms to impress girls. I _flew_ here."

"You didn't choose to take Charms at all. _Flew_ here? By motorcycle?" The alarm in Remus's voice continued to rise as he put two and two together. He whirled around to face Sirius, eyes wide. "You did it, then? The charms worked?"

"The charms worked," Sirius confirmed breathlessly, eyeing his motorcycle with reverence as he trailed a finger over its handles. "And, well, Prongs helped a bit. Want to give it a go?"

"Never have I wanted to do something less," Remus told him earnestly, looking at the parked vehicle with wariness.

"Don't be a boob," Sirius said, poking Remus on his side.

"I'm not sure I know what that means," Remus said, wincing as he rubbed his side. "I just want to make it to James's in one piece."

"And you will, because your driving skills are excellent, I know this for a fact."

"My driving skills?" Remus's eyes suddenly went wide with realization. "Oh no—no no—I am not driving, Sirius. Nope. Not I."

"Nonsense," Sirius said cheerfully, grabbing Remus's bag and hooking it on the back of the motorcycle, which gave a small shudder. "It's easy, and she likes you. I can tell."

Remus looked at the motorcycle in alarm. "You can _tell_? What does that mean?"

"Exactly what you think," said Sirius, kicking back the stand and keying the engine. Remus took a big step back. Sirius pulled the clutch, one hand on each handle of the motorcycle, and flipped the starter button. The motorcycle roared to life with a shudder, settling down into a purr as its headlights flickered on. Sirius put his face up against it, resting a cheek on its sleek metal as he looked up at Remus with the most ridiculously proud grin on his face.

"Her name is Sleipnir. Want to touch her?" Sirius asked, face still planted against the motorcycle.

Remus wanted to laugh, feeling silly as he extended a tentative arm out to brush his fingers against the front of the vehicle. Sleipnir shuddered, giving the bizarre impression that it actually was conscious.

"Right then," Sirius said, jerking his head toward the seat. "Now that you've been properly acquainted, hop on."

Remus was shaking his head before Sirius even finished his sentence. But Sirius had already pushed the stand back in place, resolutely marched up to Remus, and was now pushing him from behind.

"But!" Remus dug his heels into the dirt to no avail. "But!"

"No buts," Sirius said sternly, grunting as he dug his shoulder in Remus's back. "Sit. It'll be grand, I promise."

Giving in to the relentless pressure on his back, Remus stumbled forwarded, bracing himself with a grimace against the bike that the purred in front of him. "This is a bad idea."

"Eh, you've driven before."

"Yes, but not on two wheels," Remus said apprehensively, studying the dashboard and handles carefully.

"Hurry up, I told Mrs. Potter we'd be home for dinner."

"Alive, I presume?"

Sirius just chortled like Remus had meant it as a joke, getting onto the bike and sliding to the back to leave Remus space in front of him. Remus sighed, knowing it would be easier in the long run if he just went along with him. He clambered onto the motorcycle, gripping the handles delicately like they were going to explode. Sirius reached for the dashboard, tinkering with it until Sleipnir was alive, humming with the force of a thousand bees.

"Now remember," Sirius said loudly in Remus's ear, trying to drown out the rumble of the motorcycle, "Take it slow, she's not so smooth with the pickup and if you go too quick she'll throw you off. Same with the breaks, if you go too slow she might shut down. Also, her balance is a tad off in the sky, so I would grip the handles at all times, else she'll flip. Piece of cake other than that."

"Right," Remus said faintly.

Sirius kicked up the stand and Sleipnir lurched forward dangerously. Remus gulped, gripping the handles tight as his heart pounded.

"On the count of three," Sirius yelled breathlessly. "One, two—"

Remus didn't wait until the last count, gritting his teeth and pulling back on the throttle. Sleipnir shot forward, causing Sirius and Remus to yelp as the momentum jostled their bodies. The motorcycle ripped through the curtain of quiet with a tremendous, escalating growl, speeding down the street with its headlights piercing the foggy night.

"Lift off! Lift off!" Sirius yelled, clutching onto Remus's sides. He reached over from under an elbow to point at a little knob near Remus's right hand, just under the handlebars.

"Sirius sit _still_!" Remus said shrilly, the motorcycle wobbling dangerously as Sirius's weight shifted. Remus fumbled with his hand, afraid to take his eyes off the road lest they collide head-on with an unsuspecting pedestrian. Up ahead, Remus could see a T-junction approaching, cars ambling at a stop sign to join the throng of vehicles speeding down the main road.

"Any day now, Moony," Sirius shouted, the roaring wind distorting his voice like a bad phone connection.

The panic building in his chest made his hands shake harder, unhelpful in his pursuit to find the "lift off" button. The stopped cars ahead were nearing far too quickly.

"IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S HAIRY—"

But the rest of Sirius's panicked expletive was cut short as Remus slammed on the hidden button, and suddenly Sleipnir was climbing upward with a jerk, the ground beneath them falling away and the cars ahead of them growing smaller and smaller as they passed by. Remus had to squint to see where they were going, the gradually chilling air hitting him straight in the face. The streetlights below them were fireflies in a dense urban cobweb, the cars and trucks and buses little ants, the people specks of dust.

"WOOHOO," Sirius whooped from behind Remus, letting go of his grip on Remus's shirt to pump a fist in the air. He started laughing, an exhilarated, euphoric laugh that Remus couldn't help but join in on as his heartbeat slowed and he took in his surroundings properly for the first time. The landscape below was breathtaking, the low-hanging clouds looming like grand apparitions so close above them. Remus knew he should be freezing, but his blood was pumping so hard that he hardly noticed, instead grinning wide as Sirius's infection joy warmed him to his bones.

It was an incredible feeling.

Remus felt a something wobbling the motorcycle, and suddenly Sirius had let go, balancing himself on the foot pegs as he stood with his arms outstretched, wind whipping his hair.

"HAHA! TAKE THAT, YOU DUMB VINDICTIVE COW."

"Who are you talking to?" Remus laughed. He couldn't tell if this jibe was directed at Mrs. Black, the population of London, or the heavens in general, but he laughed helplessly anyway, overcome by his own exhilaration as he glanced over his shoulder to look at Sirius. Sirius gave him a manic grin in return.

"All the bastards who doubted me," Sirius retorted, shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the hair flying into his face.

"Sirius, sit _down_ before you fall off."

Sirius cackled but obliged, grabbing onto the back of Remus's shirt as he lowered himself back to his seat. "Told you it would be grand. Isn't it grand, Moony?"

Indeed it was.

They had reached the city limits, the lights more scattered now as expanses of dark farmland emerged over the horizon. The London noises had also quieted, a stretching silence beginning to take over in its place. There was nothing and nobody to orient Remus as they glided on through the night, the edges of the city passing by beneath them.

As if to answer Remus's thoughts, Sirius said, "West. We have to go west."

"Right, yeah, let me just get out my hand-dandy compass."

Sirius snorted. "No need to get snotty with me. It's that way, see the hills there? Just go that way for a few."

Remus tilted the handles of the motorcycle, following Sirius's instructions. They glided through the air, Sleipnir's steady humming a comforting melody and her headlight the only source of light for miles around. The hills that were drifting closer beneath them were little bumps on the otherwise smooth landscape of countryside. Remus took a deep breath of the fresh air, its dewy chill filling his lungs like a rejuvenating elixir. It reminded him of Little Hampton, of the clean air and the quiet and the expanses of green. It was comfortingly familiar up where he was, many thousands of feet off the ground, even though he'd never have guessed he'd feel at home hovering on a motorcycle in midair with Sirius Black. He had to admit that this beat flooing by a longshot.

They sat there in happy silence for a stretch of time, winding down from the initial exhilaration and settling instead into quiet contemplation as they took in the breathtaking views. Presently, after noting that Sirius had been silent for a while, Remus glanced over his shoulder. "How much further?"

"Just over there," Sirius said vaguely, pointing ahead of Remus, slightly to the left. "You ought to start descending now."

Remus adjusted the direction of the motorcycle and it slowly started to glide downwards like it was sinking through water. As the ground below rose up to meet them, Remus could make out a house in the distance: large, majestic, and artistic in its archaic architecture, the Pottor Villa sat squarely between the edge of a creeping forest and its sprawling front yard in full bloom. They got closer, and Remus could make out the cobbled path winding through the garden and up to the large mahogany front doors, a sense of warmth engulfing him as he recalled the many summer days he had spent in blissful comfort at the Potters'.

He must have drifted off in deep thought for a second too long, because suddenly Sirius was tugging the back of his shirt with urgency.

"Er, Moony, you need to slow down."

A cold wave of panic suddenly coursed through Remus's body as the motorcycle continued to speed toward the Potters' garden much faster that Remus had anticipated. He had only a few seconds to break their landing, and he realized he had no idea how.

"I don't know how!"

"You _what_? What do you mean you don't know _how_?"

"We didn't cover this!"

"You just have to break! Hit the breaks slowly!"

They were close enough now that Remus could distinguish between the sections of flowers and vegetables. It only took him a second to realize the window for gradual breaking had long passed, and he felt a sense of doom engulfing him as they made a beeline straight for the flower patches.

Remus gulped. "Fuck."

"BREAK, MOONY, BREAK," Sirius screamed, his voice a little too exhilarated for Remus's liking given their predicament.

In a moment of sheer panic, Remus braked just as the front tire touched the ground. The change in momentum sent dirt and grass showering around them like a little explosion and sent the two of them flying off the vehicle like projectiles. Remus didn't realize they were both yelling until they made impact, the ground muffling their screams as they landed face-first into the Potter's flower garden.

It took a few seconds before Remus came to, and the first noise that left his throat was a groan as he suddenly became aware of the brambles in his hair and bruises on his body. His groan was met with a mirroring one from Sirius from a few feet away. A third groan pierced the symphony of crickets moments later as Sleipnir shuddered ominously somewhere in the distance and shut down with a few half-hearted putters.

There was sudden movement to Remus's left, making his eyes fly open. He saw a shadowy figure moving beyond the reaches of the bushes, coming closer and closer until suddenly, the branches above him were unceremoniously shoved aside and Remus's vision cleared.

He was met with the familiar sight of a bespectacled young man sporting a large grin.

"Hallo, Moony. Way to make an entrance," James said.

Remus groaned and sank further into the bushes. "It was Sirius's fault."

"It always is," James said, chortling. "Where is he, anyhow?"

"M'here," came a muffled grunt from somewhere near Remus. "S'alright, we're fine Jamesy."

"Speak for yourself," Remus said with feeling.

"I take it the bike isn't quite tip-top yet?"

Sirius snorted indignantly from the bushes. "The _motorcycle_ is fine. Remus just drives like a nutter."

"It wasn't _my_ idea to drive, I _told_ you we could've just flooed," Remus muttered, sinking further into the brambles. He didn't have much opportunity to brood in the bushes however, instead finding himself being yanked up unceremoniously by James, who grabbed his shirt and tugged him lose from the twigs that were nesting him.

"Of course it wasn't," James said soothingly, brushing off errant leaves from Remus's arm. "Sirius is a git."

"Am not!'

"You are, you git. See, Moony's all grumpy now."

"He's always grumpy," Sirius said grumpily, his voice muffled by rustles and cracks as he hoisted himself up from the bushes as well. He emerged looking like a walking tree, sticks and needles poking out from his shirt and hair, his boots filled with leaves. "Bugger."

"SIRIUS BLACK WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BEGONIAS."

Sirius froze, the color draining from his face. James winced.

"Ah, you're in for it now, Padfoot."

Remus just smirked.

There was a slam as the mahogany front doors closed shut behind a grey-haired woman who was marching resolutely toward the three friends. She hoisted up her long, magenta robes, trotting briskly as her heels tapped against the cobbled stone path. Sirius winced, his hand going straight to his hair as she approached.

"Sirius," Mrs. Potter said sharply, coming to a stop before the boy and peering at him sternly from over her spectacles. She was not as tall as James but was a tall woman all the same. She had the same hazel eyes as her son, the same bony nose, and the same air of self-assuredness.

Her eyebrows were currently arched intimidatingly. "Is that your motorcycle currently crash-landed in my front yard?"

"Er," Sirius started, having the grace to look slightly ashamed. "Yes—er—that would be mine."

Mrs. Potter crossed her arms. "I was under the impression that I had asked you to return with Remus by dinner, isn't that right?"

"Yes ma'am."

"So not only did you crash a flying motorcycle into my flower beds, you're also late."

"But I brought Remus, as promised!" Sirius said brightly, gesturing toward Remus.

Mrs. Potter turned to Remus, her face softening. She walked up to him and patted his cheek affectionately. "Hello, dear, it's lovely to see you again."

"And you, Mrs. Potter," Remus beamed, his dimple flashing. Sirius rolled his eyes and huffed grumpily behind Mrs. Potter as Remus allowed himself to be petted, smirking at Sirius over her shoulder. "Your begonias really are very lovely."

"They were," Mrs. Potter said darkly, but her eyes betrayed warmth even as she glared at Sirius. James chuckled. Sirius looked wounded.

"Will dad be up?" James asked.

Mrs. Potter finally turned away from Remus. "Perhaps, we'll see how he's doing."

"But—"

Mrs. Potter didn't let him finish, instead cutting him off firmly. "We'll _see_, James. Now go on inside and get cleaned up so we can start on dinner, all of you. And no funny business from you, Sirius, you here?"

With that she, started shooing them away insistently, clutching her skirts with one hand. The boys started making toward the house, James leading the way as Remus and Sirius exchanged looks behind his back. They didn't talk about Mr. Potter, not unless James brought it up himself. It was an unspoken rule.

James needed to be in control, or at least, he needed to seem like he was. It had always been that way. James was a caretaker at heart, he was the one helping not the one to be helped. He helped Peter with homework, he helped Sirius with his family, he helped Remus with the full moon. And now he was helping Mrs. Potter handle the family affairs.

When he had expressed a desire not to return for seventh year, Sirius' had thrown a fit. No amount of subsequent bating from Sirius, or rationalizing from Remus, or flashing of James' Head Boy letter by Peter could shake James, because he felt he owed it to his mother to share in the burden of caring for his father and the house. His mother was not young anymore, after all, and who did Mr. and Mrs. Potter have besides James? All the rest of his family was dead.

It was Euphemia Potter who had finally put her foot down. She was, after all, who James got much of his personality from, and she had refused point blank to be looked after. She was a Potter, and Potters were brave and self-sacrificing and spared everybody around them from having to deal with their troubles. It had not dissuaded James, but at least he'd agreed to meet Dumbledore and Lily Evans in Cokeworth to discuss the coming year.

"Peter should be here after dinner," James said as they trudged along toward the house, Mrs. Potter staying back to inspect the damage to her flowers. "He had to stay back and take care of the kids. Sucks."

"Lame," Sirius said agreed.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Just because you have no actual responsibilities doesn't mean we all live as carefree as you do."

"I have responsibilities. Mrs. Potter makes me wash the dishes twice a week. By hand, might I add."

"What a sacrilege," Remus muttered.

"It's quite taxing," Sirius insisted, stretching out his hands and squinting at them. "I reckon I got calluses from it, in fact."

"Poor Sirius Black's dainty little hands—"

"—Here we go," James sighed good-naturedly, throwing open the front doors. He couldn't help but smile to himself as his friends continued bickering behind him. It had been a difficult summer, what with the situation with his father. It weighed on him all the time, making him feel lethargic at best and dismal when he gave it too much thought. But if restoring normalcy meant listening to Sirius and Remus argue with each other, then he was willing to put up with it.

Right now, they all needed some normalcy.


	3. Summer 1977: Family Reunion

**SUMMER 1977**

* * *

"Do you think she'll see us?"

Remus glanced at Sirius and then caught James's and Peter's eyes from Sirius's other side. Sirius didn't seem to notice, craning his neck as he searched the throngs of people traversing Diagon Alley outside of Flourish and Blotts. The streets were busy for a weekday, but it was close enough to the start of the school term to explain the gaggles of young witches and wizards congregating outside the usual spots: Madam Malkin's, Ollivander's, Potage's Cauldron Shop.

Sirius had only admitted a few nights ago that he'd been in touch with her and was trying to arrange a time and place to meet. James had immediately suggested Sirius do it during their trip to Diagon Alley—it was a public, fairly crowded place with lots of places to sit and have a chat.

"Diagon Alley?" Sirius asked, skeptical.

"Sure!" James said, slamming his hands down on the kitchen island enthusiastically. His three friends, sitting on stools across from him, jumped. "It's perfect, really. It'll just be us four, so Mum won't know what we're up to. You can spend as much time with her as you want, and we'll just meet back up when you're done."

Sirius still looked doubtful. "I dunno, isn't Diagon Alley kind of … drab?"

"Oh, my apologies, Master Black, didn't realize you were looking to dine her at the Ritz."

"I thought they'd shut the Ritz after that whole fiasco with the two dead men?" Peter asked, taking a huge bite of his muffin.

"I heard it was an elite sex party that got out of hand. Apparently, a few of them got carried away with some kinky stuff," Sirius said. "They found one of the men with a Remembrall up his—"

"—That's beside the point." James said impatiently.

"Well, what does Moony think?"

Sirius, James, and Peter turned to look at Remus, who was perched on his stool with all his concentration fixated calmly on peeling his banana. He took a few more seconds to do this, face impassive.

"It's a good idea," Remus finally conceded, breaking off the top of the banana and tossing it into his mouth.

And so, the plan was made. They had agreed to meet her at Flourish and Blotts mostly because it was central, easy, and many people hung around in the store long after their purchases, so it was not suspicious to loiter. The days leading up to their Diagon Alley trip, Sirius had been hyper-stimulated, buzzing with excitement and nervous energy, uncertain what to expect. It had all culminated in this moment, standing outside the shop as they waited, Sirius's restlessness peaking at an all-time high.

"She'll see us, mate," James said bracingly. "She knows where to find us."

"Maybe we should wait inside?" Peter ventured. "It's not as crowded in there."

Sirius looked torn, shifting from one foot to another.

"Let's go inside," Remus said firmly. There was no use having Sirius stew in his own anxiety outside the store. He needed a distraction. Sirius only grunted, his eyes still flickering from one stranger's face to another as they walked by.

"I can wait out here," James offered. He glanced at his watch and then stuffed his hands back into his pockets. "She'd recognize me, we've met before."

When Sirius didn't move, Remus tugged at his robes. "C'mon. James will keep an eye out."

"We need to find that book anyway, the one that has the modified Amortentia recipe," Peter said suddenly, his face lighting up.

James's face mirrored Peter's. "Say! That's right!"

"If we find it here, we can start planning on the train," Peter continued excitedly.

James and Peter had twin expressions of childlike glee on their faces. Pranks never got old, no matter that they were headed into their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. They had been working on this particular prank—Peter's brainchild, bless him—for a good portion of the last month. Sirius had insisted they needed to commemorate the last first week of school. Remus had pointed out that they always commemorated every first week of school with some shenanigan or another. James declared that the prank was so timeless it didn't quite matter when they did it. Peter was just very proud to lead the charge, basking in James's and Sirius's slaps on his back and appreciative chuckles.

Remus looked thoughtfully at the storefront. "I imagine they'll have something we can use."

"Go on," James said to Sirius encouragingly, "The fate of the mission rests in your hands. Remember your Maraudering duties."

Sirius moved slowly and reluctantly, but he did relent, letting Remus and Peter guide him into the store. The little bell above the door tinkled as they walked in, and they were met with the soothing smell of old parchment and new ink. It was quieter inside, as if the paper of the books was dampening the conversations.

Sirius continued glancing apprehensively over his shoulder. "But what if—"

"—she'll see him," Remus said firmly. "Where should we look?"

"The maladies section, you think? Or would it be with the regular potions books," Peter pondered, his mind fixated on this new task.

Remus shook his head, dragging Sirius along despite his noises of protest. "Maladies. They wouldn't put Amortensia in a regular book. Too dangerous."

The maladies section of the bookstore was upstairs and to the back, hidden between the culinary portion and the stacks about divination. Peter attacked the shelves with vigor, peering at the spines and muttering to himself with intense concentration. Sirius grabbed a stool and dragged it to the edge of the stacks closest to the mezzanine where he could see the front entrance.

"Here, take a look, this one might be useful," Peter said, holding out a dusty red book as he continued down the shelf. Sirius ignored him.

"I'm pants at potions," Remus sighed, taking the book and immediately handing it to Sirius. Sirius gave him a petulant look but accepted, grabbing it and throwing it open on his lap. He flipped the pages vigorously, his eyes still snaking toward the front door.

Remus dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged with his back against the books, peering up at Sirius. "She'll come."

Sirius hummed but said nothing, bent over the book.

"Should we wait until Hogsmeade to do this?" Peter asked, balancing two books on bent knee as he reached for a third two shelves above him.

"Too much security," Sirius grunted. Remus grimaced in agreement. Dumbledore had finally acquiesced to the Ministry placing aurors in Hogsmeade at the end of last year to address the rising attacks on muggleborn students and the multiple sighting of extremists in the vicinity. It wasn't quite clear what Voldemort's followers were doing around Hogwarts—Sirius had suggested they were recruiting students into their group, which they'd dramatically named "Death Eaters." Hogsmeade trips were no longer ripe for mischief.

"Are they still doing that? Trailing us with aurors?" Peter asked.

"Are Voldemort's followers still rampaging around like murderous vultures? Don't be thick, Wormtail."

Peter felt a pang of resentment but did not respond to Sirius's snark. He wasn't immune to the sinister goings-on of Voldemort and his people: his mother worked at the Ministry, after all, in the Magical Law Enforcement Department to boot, and that's all anybody was talking about these days. But between Patty's illness, Rich acting up all the time, Delilah's pregnancy, and Lolo being, well, a baby, the Pettigrews had their hands full with familial obligations that preoccupied most of their free time. Peter had not spent his summer building motorcycles, or taking drives with his father along the country roads, and surely not going on extravagant vacations. He did not go to garden parties and galas. He spent his summers watching his sisters, cooking them meals, and taking them to the movies if they behaved well.

Sirius tended to assume Peter's life was like his own, or James's, but it wasn't. His father ran a butcher store, not an ultra-profitable hair product company, or an inheritance that had been amassing for centuries. The Pettigrews had always had food on the table, but Peter and his siblings still worked at his father's shop every summer before Hogwarts. He didn't get his first broom until he was ten, whereas James and Sirius had been flying on the best equipment since they'd learned how to walk. Peter was the middle child, stuck between playing parent to the younger Pettigrews while failing to capture his parents' interest, which was always fixated on the next big life event of their eldest children's lives—or in Rich's case, the next big screwup.

Peter exchanged a look with Remus, who just shrugged. Remus never made assumptions about Peter's life. Of course, Remus grew up in much more difficult circumstances than Peter—there were, in fact, days when Mr. and Mrs. Lupin could not put food on the table because they'd spent the year's savings on the next big cure to lycanthropy that inevitably failed to help their son. Remus still could not afford a broom and bought all his textbooks second-hand. Despite this, and although Remus was the only child, he was always cognizant of Peter's particular difficulties: he asked about how Patty was doing, whether Lolo had started teething, whether Delilah was going to finally marry her bum boyfriend who knocked her up, whether Rich was getting his act together.

Yet, Remus let so many things slide when it came to Sirius, whether Sirius's derision was directed at him or at Peter. Peter almost snorted out loud: Who was he kidding, Sirius's derision was almost always directed at Peter. Sirius never _really_ had a go at Remus—there was something about the way they were together that Peter just couldn't understand. They seemed to share some sort of shared dark reality that Peter wasn't privy to. Sirius was almost protective of Remus, which Peter _really_ didn't understand, because Remus never showed weakness. He wasn't the kind of person who needed protecting. Sirius was gentle with him, and Remus was gentle back, and Peter just couldn't quite point to anything in particular that made him come to this conclusion because in reality, neither of them were particularly _nice_ to each other; they bickered all the time. But he'd seen them sneak into each other's bed when they were younger, seen them quell one another with a touch to the elbow. Sometimes it made Peter jealous, and other times it just made him uncomfortable because it was inappropriate, in his opinion.

And it wasn't fair, because while James and Sirius were basically two halves of a whole, which Peter understood best friends to be, Remus and Sirius were nothing alike, and their relationship made no sense to him. James had made his peace with it, but Peter … well, at the least Peter just wished Remus was a better friend to him. Remus was kind, and helpful, and listened to Peter's wants and woes: he couldn't always tell James, because James was too popular and smart and talented to understand, and he could never tell Sirius because Sirius had too little patience with Peter to care. But Remus always listened, because Remus was a good friend. Peter just wished Remus would also stand up to Sirius for him, because Peter didn't feel like he could.

"How'd you find her?" Peter asked instead. Remus turned expectantly to look at Sirius as well. Sirius didn't lift his head from the book.

"Uncle Alphard," Sirius grunted. "Been writing to him all summer. Strange fellow."

Remus frowned contemplatively. "He's still alive, then?"

"Apparently."

"Where is he now?"

"Dunno," Sirius said, "That's why I've had to use a different owl every time. He's in hiding."

Peter's eyebrows rose up his forehead. "Your family hates him that much?"

"Nah," Sirius said with a slight chortle, "He's not running from them. I think he's in trouble with the law. I swear he isn't going to be around much longer if he keeps it up."

"Sounds like a reliable fellow," Remus observed.

Sirius shrugged. "He's alright. Stuck up for me a couple times around mum when I was a kid. Besides, he's the only one who knew where she was once she disappeared."

Suddenly, Sirius started like he'd been electrocuted, effectively drawing both Peter's and Remus's attention to him. He rose to his feet, the book on his lap falling onto the floor.

"She's here," he blanched.

Remus and Peter shuffled over to the mezzanine, curious. It wasn't difficult to spot her—she was the only person in the store who wasn't moving, opting instead to hover just inside the entrance, off to the side as she peered around her uncertainly. She was wearing simple black robes that brought out the signature grey of her deep-set eyes, framed by arched brows and high cheekbones made all the more visible with her hair tied in a loose bun on her head.

"Cor," Sirius breathed.

James was standing next to her, and he was the first to catch sight of the boys peering over the mezzanine. He gave them a reassuring smile and then leaned down to whisper in the woman's ear. Her head jerked up, her eyes finding Sirius almost instantly.

"Go," Peter hear Remus say softly, nudging Sirius. Sirius gulped, gripping the rails for another second before he shoved himself away, rushing toward the stairs. The woman did not take her eyes off him as he descended, her lips quivering just slightly.

"We still need that book," Peter grumbled, grabbing the tomb that Sirius had unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. Remus smiled apologetically, offering wordlessly to take some of the books Peter was carrying under his arm.

"Hey," James said cheerfully as Remus and Peter descended the stairs to join them. Sirius had come to an abrupt halt next to James and seemed to be frozen there. "Andy, this is Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Friends from Hogwarts, I don't know if you remember."

Andromeda Tonks finally tore her eyes away from Sirius, turning toward Remus and Peter. "Only just. You all were first-years then. Cor, you've grown so tall."

"Hello," Remus said, offering a polite smile. "It's nice to see you again." Peter hummed and nodded his head vigorously in agreement.

Remus hardly knew Sirius's cousin Andromeda Black. She had been a seventh-year prefect when they had started at Hogwarts. He'd only ever interacted with her whenever he was with Sirius, and once when he accidentally got lost in the dungeons. She was tall and beautiful and daunting and had looked down on him with prefectly sternness as she told him how to get back to the Gryffindor common room. She was familiar to Remus insofar as she resembled Sirius—graceful, regal, with patrician features and an air of superiority—but that was where the similarities ended. While Sirius was playful and silly and loud, Andromeda had always been quiet and solemn and collected, the older and wiser presence of most any room she was in. To eleven-year-old Remus, already terrified about being a werewolf at Hogwarts, she was downright intimidating.

The last Remus had heard of her was in the summer before their third year, when the Marauders had spent one disastrous week at Sirius's house. On day three of the seven-day house of horrors tour, Mrs. Black had received word from her sister that her niece had given birth, which turned out to not be welcome news at the Black household. Dinnertime conversation that evening had concerned itself mostly with Mr. and Mrs. Black's extreme displeasure and disgust at a former Black daughter having "procreated" with a muggleborn—as if her marriage to him would not have made that a predictable reality. Sirius had missed out on the memo, however, and expressed excitement to hear about his new baby cousin, vocalizing a desire to visit—that is, until his mother told him in no universe was he to go near that "shape-shifting freak of a mudblood spawn" and her "blood-traitor, whore" mother. Things escalated from there, as they tended to when one's favorite cousin was called a whore and her daughter a freak in front of one's horrified friends. When Sirius returned to his room that night after his mother had "had a long conversation with him" post-dinner in her study, Remus could swear he heard sniffling from Sirius's bed. But he and James and Peter were too young and too awkward to know what to do, and instead they made wide eyes at each from underneath their blankets from the comfort of their beds.

Sirius had only gotten more and more reclusive about his family as the years went by, putting on an act that he didn't give a damn about them and what they thought of him, though thankfully James and Remus and Peter had improved their emotional labor skills. But Remus didn't forget the early years of their boyhood, when the starvation for love from his mother was still visible on Sirius's face, when his eyes would start to glass over at howlers from his parents or taunts from his cousins or lack of presents at Christmas in first-year as punishment for being sorted into Gryffindor.

Remus remembered—with a pang of guilt and regret because he hadn't been there until later—when Sirius ran away from home. It had been to James's house, naturally, that Sirius had fled, but not before spending a month meandering about on him own, living off the money he'd stolen from home just before he left. James had been frantic—so frantic that he had even written Mrs. Black a letter demanding to know why he hadn't heard from Sirius since Poseidon (Sirius's owl) had crashed into James's kitchen with a two-word note: _I left_. In return, James had received a howler and a jar of poisonous snake venom that Mrs. Potter had to incinerate in order to make sure nobody accidentally made contact with it.

Andy was bending down now, and she said softly, "Say hello, Nymphadora."

It was only then that Remus noticed the little head peering curiously from behind Andromeda's skirts. It was a girl, hardly a few feet tall, with hair so shockingly blue that Remus had to blink a few times to make sure it really was her hair and not simply an extravagant hat. She had grey eyes too—not long and swan-like like her mother's, but big and round, set above a button nose that, along with her heart-shaped face, made her looked almost elfish.

Sirius seemed to have already seen her. He was staring at her as she looked from one unfamiliar face to another like she was a bizarre piece of art he couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

"Hello," said the girl, Nymphadora.

Andromeda put a protective hand on the girl's head. "I had to bring her along, Ted had to go in to work today. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Sirius said hoarsely.

"That's your cousin," Andromeda spoke to the child, but her glossy eyes were still fixed on Sirius. Her voice waivered slightly. "Your cousin Sirius."

Nymphadora and Sirius stared at each other with fascination.

James had been looking thoughtfully at Sirius during this exchange and had seemed to make up his mind about something. He turned to Andromeda, his smile brightening. "Er, Andy, it's rather stuffy in here, wouldn't you say? Perhaps you and Sirius would like to take a walk, catch up an all that?"

Andromeda frowned, glancing down at Nymphadora. "Well—"

"—We could watch her for you. She can stay here with us." James bent down so that he was level with Nymphadora, peering into her small face. She stared back at him unabashedly. "What say you?"

Nymphadora frowned. "No."

"Well," James said conversationally, "How about this, if you stay here, mummy and Sirius can nip out and get you some ice cream. Sound like a deal?"

Nymphadora bit her lip, considering this proposition. She looked between her mother and Sirius, and finally emerged from behind Andromeda, extending her hand toward James. James took it in his own.

"Okay," Nymphadora agreed, sounding pleased.

"Splendid," James said cheerfully.

Andromeda still looked doubtful. "She can be quite a handful, I'm afraid. Are you sure you can manage?"

James waved away her concern with an air of confidence. "Nonsense, we'll have a grand old time. Pete has like five siblings, and Remus is patient. Between the three of us, I'm sure we can figure out how to keep her occupied."

Remus and Peter hummed their agreement. Sirius snorted, the first emotion he'd displayed aside from shock since Andromeda and her daughter had walked in. "You can _bore_ her to death, you mean."

Remus rolled his eyes. "We're not going to _bore_ her, Padfoot. We could, I dunno, read to her."

"I can read," Nymphadora piped up. "I know how, I learnt. I can show you!"

Remus smiled down at her. "I'd love to see it."

Andromeda seemed more reassured. She bent over slightly, her forearm protectively resting on the little girl's back. "I'm going to leave you here, love, but I will be back soon. You behave yourself now, you hear?"

Nymphadora nodded enthusiastically, following it immediately with, "I want chocolate flavor ice cream."

Andromeda straightened up. "Alright, we'll—we'll be back, then. Thank you for watching her, James."

"Don't mention it," James said. He raised his eyebrow at Sirius, who was still slightly pale. Sirius took a deep breath and let it out. "You take your time."

Remus nudged Sirius again. "We'll be fine here."

"Okay," Sirius whispered.

Andromeda gave him a tentative, encouraging smile, and he smiled back, nervous. Both of them seemed uncertain how to be around each other, many years of silence having created a wall between them. They were strangers—who shared memories of traversing an unhappy childhood together, but strangers nonetheless. She was, however, the only true family Sirius had left, the only person in the world, perhaps, who could relate to him and his decision to run away from home, because she had done the same and had run from the same people.

"We won't be long," Andromeda told the boys and Nymphadora. But Nymphadora's attention was already effectively diverted as she tugged on James's hand, trying to steer him toward the back of the shop where the children's books were.

"Steady on," James told her. "Ta, Andy. Sirius."

Peter trailed behind James and Nymphadora as they disappeared into the crowd. Remus gave Sirius one last reassuring smile, which Sirius returned with an uncertain one of his own. He turned away then, hearing the tinkling of the bell at the front door that signaled that Sirius and Andromeda had left behind him.

"Slow down, Nymphadora!" Remus could hear James saying. And then—"What in the bloody _world_ …?"

He stepped past a few stragglers and emerged in a quiet little corner of the bookstore between the stacks. He froze in astonishment, though, realizing what had made James exclaim, when he saw that the color of Nymphadora's hair had changed—it was bright red now, and her face was scrunched up. James looked equal parts mystified and alarmed.

"Ow," Peter bumped into Remus from behind. "What in the—woah, did her hair change …?!"

"My _name_ is _not_ Nymphadora!" she growled at James.

James raised his hands, amused. "Alright, alright, what's your name then?"

Her face smoothened, pacified, and her hair faded back to blue.

"How is she doing that?" Peter asked in awe.

"She's a metamorphagus," Remus said, staring at the child with fascination. "Wow, that's … that's really rare."

Nymphadora seemed to have contemplated James's question long enough and had come up with some answers. "Dora. You can call me Dora. Or you can call me Nigel. Like from the books about the dragons."

"Dora or Nigel?" James repeated dubiously.

She crossed her arms, as if daring him to challenge her.

"Alright, then, Nigel, why don't you take a look around and find a book you'd want to read?"

Satisfied, she dropped her arms and turned to the shelf, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she peered at the spines of the books carefully.

"What a strange child," James noted quietly to Remus and Peter.

"She could be a Nigel. Or a Dora. Or both. Or neither. Shape-shifter, remember?" Remus pointed out.

Peter scrunched his nose at this. "That's so bizarre."

Remus shrugged. "It's kind of neat. As a metamorphagus, her body is both constant and fluid, meaning there are limits to what she can shift into but for the most part, she can take on any human features she pleases and some animal ones, but those are less common. It's especially interesting for children, to see how their self-perception translates into their physical form."

"Thanks for the rundown, Professor Moony."

"To be honest, I'd think it would get confusing," James said, watching her pull out a book and flip through it. "Hard enough to keep track of the little buggers—kids, I mean. Besides, wouldn't she forget what she looked like, eventually?"

"No, she has a primary presentation, basically the features she was born with. She can will it back when she wants to."

"How do you even know all this?" Peter shook his head.

Remus shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "I read about it somewhere. Didn't expect to actually meet a metamorphagus though, let alone one who's all of five years."

"You'd think Andy'd give us a heads up," James muttered.

"I found it!" She said in triumph, using both her small hands to hold up an enormous book about magical ocean flora and fauna. "I want to read about the-the sea!"

"Swell," said James, settling down on a spare stool and taking the book into his lap. "Let's get to it, then, Nigel."

* * *

He wasn't quite sure where to begin. How did one talk to a family member they'd been estranged from for years? When they'd last met, it was at the end of his first year at Hogwarts, and here he was starting his very last. It had been easy then—he was her troublesome little cousin brother, and she was his watchful older sister. She was the reason his first year wasn't abysmal, from the moment he'd gotten sorted into Gryffindor and she kept the Slytherins from bullying him, through Christmas, when his parents had refused to send him gifts and she had made sure he had fresh cookies and a scarf packed neatly under the tree, through the end of the year, when she had pulled him aside at Platform Nine and Three Quarters and told him firmly not to get himself into too much trouble at home.

He remembered asking her when she'd visit that summer, remembered her looking sad even though she was smiling and holding his hand and telling him that he might not see her because she had a few important things to take care of. He hadn't realized then that those important things involved eloping with Edward Tonks. Or that when she meant she wouldn't see him for a while, she meant he wouldn't see her for the next five and a half years, right up until this moment, sitting across from her at the table in an obscure bar just a few blocks from the main Diagon Alley street, away from the bustle.

He didn't know how to tell her he was thrilled to see her, nervous to talk to her, upset that she had never once wrote him in all this time, and afraid of finding out why. Had she realized what a fuck-up he was and decided it would be best to keep her daughter away from him? Was she disappointed at how he'd turned out, perhaps angry that he didn't stay and make their family see reason, instead choosing to run away when she clearly had no say in the matter, having been kicked out of the house the moment she admitted she had fallen in love with a muggleborn?

How could he even begin telling her all of this?

She was watching him quietly, her eyes roaming over his face as if trying to memorize it. She hadn't aged a day—the only sign of weariness was in her guarded eyes. She was still the same dauntingly beautiful girl she was in Hogwarts, the same intense eyebrows, swan eyes, soft brown hair. Although, he had to remind himself that while she had a daughter and a family of her own now, she was still young, hardly 24. It couldn't have been that long after her seventh year that she had Nymphadora …

"Did they kick you out because you were knocked up?" Sirius blurted, at the same time Andromeda started to say, "So how've you been?"

They stared at each, both stopping abruptly to let the other finish.

"Er—" Sirius said. "Sorry, that was rude—"

"—Yes," Andromeda answered without hesitation. "Erm, yes. They found out just before you went off for your second year. That summer."

"Oh," Sirius said. _Is that why you never wrote?_ He wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. "That must have gone down well."

Andromeda smiled faintly. "As you'd expect. Dad was furious beyond reason. He's the one who did it—kicked me out, you know. I got a few good … scars, from that. Bella was just as mad as he was, I really thought she'd have a go at me too, but Dad wouldn't let her. He's not that sadistic, turns out."

Sirius winced without meaning too, suddenly recalling his own father's wrath from the summer before when he'd left home.

Andromeda was still smiling, but it was strained, and her eyes flashed. "Mum wouldn't even look at me. Disowned me on the spot. Cissy just sobbed like a maniac."

"Typical," Sirius snorted. Andromeda grinned.

"Always had a flare for the dramatics. If she'd spent half as much time focusing on her studies as she had prancing around the castle fainting across Lucius Malfoy's lap, she'd have aced her OWLS. She failed two of them, you know."

"But it worked, didn't it?" Sirius shrugged. "All the fainting. She's getting married to him in December—did you get the invite?"

"Oh, that's right, yes I did!" Andromeda said brightly. "Lovely card. Nice touch with the little blood guard. Ted couldn't open it, you know, had to spill my blood on the seam."

"Say," Sirius said, grinning devilishly, "Shall we go, you and I? Pop in and given them a little surprise? I know Lucius would be _thrilled_ to see us."

Andromeda and Sirius looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing, startling a waiter who was carrying a tray of drinks next to them and nearly making him drop it.

"We could give him a bottomless jar of hair product," Andromeda said in between bouts of laughter. "As a wedding present."

"Could you imagine the look on Cissy's face if we did show up though, with a bottomless jar of hair product?" Sirius cackled, unable to help himself. "She'd throw a fit."

"Honestly, I don't know what she was thinking," Andromeda said, settling down and wiping a tear from her eyes. "Did she _really_ think we'd come?"

"I dunno, perhaps it's a trap," Sirius said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't put it past Mum. Madwoman. She'd bully yours into it and everything, catch me in a damn booby-trap and ship me off to some conversion school in Scandinavia or something."

The smile was fading off Andromeda's face. "Did she try that on you?"

"No," Sirius said quickly, realizing where they were headed in the conversation. "No, she didn't. She used to when I was a kid, but she didn't when I … when I left."

Andromeda was watching him carefully. "I hope she didn't do anything drastic."

Sirius shrugged. "It wasn't so much what she did when I finally left. It was really mostly all the time leading up to it. I think she saw it coming and wanted to pack all the fun into one summer. I'm fine—" he said quickly, seeing a dark look flitter across Andromeda's face. "I'm fine, really."

"I should've been there. I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Sirius's mouth went dry and he thought carefully about what to say, stomping out the urge to vehemently agree with her. "You couldn't have done anything."

Andromeda looked out the window, thoughtful and melancholy. "You must be wondering … I wanted to write you, I did. But I didn't contact you because I thought you'd be safer that way. Aunt Walburga would've flipped if she knew we were in touch. I hope you understand that I didn't mean to leave you alone."

She was looking at him again, and he had to drop his gaze for a few moments as he felt a constriction in his throat. He cursed himself mentally for it. She continued, "I thought about you every day. Wondered if you were alright. I didn't know you ran away until Alphard wrote me a few weeks ago. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Sirius said automatically. It _was_ alright. There was no use in feeling any other way about it. He couldn't even really think about feeling anything much else right now—he was consumed in relief, relief that she had not shunned him, or given up on him, or disowned him. Relief that his building hope had not been dashed. Relief that he had at least one person he could still call family.

Andromeda smiled wanly. "I hope it can be, eventually. I hope you know you're welcome at our place. You're family."

Sirius smiled at her, a genuine smile as a warmth spread through his body, lifting the heavy weight in his chest that had been lurking for the last few weeks, ever since he'd sent his first owl to Alphard. When he spoke, his voice was more hoarse than he meant for it to be. "Thank you."

Andromeda reached out across the table and took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. It was so reminiscent of when they were younger that he had to blink a couple times and swallow to dislodge the lump that seemed to have painfully reestablished itself in his throat.

He looked back up with her, and she was smiling. "It gets better. I promise."

Although everyone had told him as much, for once, he believed it. To see her sitting here in flesh and blood, having survived and emerged happy and thriving, made him believe it in a way that no amount of reassurance from his friends could have done.

And right now, that was more than enough.


	4. (Flashback) September 1971: Train Rides

**SEPTEMBER** **1971**

* * *

The elder boy heaves his trolley forward. They reach the brick pillar between platform nine and ten, earning looks from all the muggles as they pass by. The mother is a rather unpleasant looking woman, stately, with expensive attire and pale skin that seems to never have seen the light of the day, and deep grey eyes. Two boys, one clinging to her robes like a lifeline and the other heaving a great heavy trolley stacked with the oddest assortment of items—a golden cage housing a beautiful tawny owl, a polished wooden trunk hunkering at the bottom—walk beside her. They are beautiful boys, with patrician features, finely woven ensembles and gaits that speak of elegance having been hammered into their subconscious from the moment they learnt how to walk.

Yet, they are less boys and more walking portraits and marble statues. The look in their eyes speaks of a nonexistent childhood and a cold, forced independence. The mother has one sinewy hand permanently latched onto the elder boy's shoulder, and perhaps that isn't so odd in itself, but the tense muscles of the boy's back, the slight purse of the woman's lips and the way her nails dig just slightly into the material of his cloak give the impression that it has more to do with admonition than affection.

They pause in the middle of the bustling platform.

The three huddle together as if quite convinced that the people around them will converge and swallow them whole. Indeed, the look the woman seems to be casting at the folks around her makes them all cringe and check themselves for anything particularly nasty hanging off of their coats or out of their trouser pockets.

The boys, however, don't seem to share their mother's acute distaste of innocent bystanders as much and are instead watching the stream of crowd around them with something akin to fascination. The mother notices this, and she digs her fingers painfully into her son's shoulder.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, Sirius," she hisses in rasping tones.

"Yes mother," is his low, toneless reply, but he continues to cast surreptitious glances at his surroundings.

The younger boy, so like his brother, peeks out from behind his mother and whispers something. His mother's nostrils flare but she speaks in even tones, and she seems to be addressing both her sons. The younger listens with rapt attention.

Sirius isn't listening, however. He has caught sight of another boy.

The concept of another boy is fascinating to him. He has been introduced to children his age, two or three perhaps, but he doesn't interact with them. He knows the protocol: he is to show them around the house, educate them on the lines of tapestries peopling the walls, and then politely ask them if they wish to take a beverage before leading them back to the hall, where they are to sit still with the adults, silent unless spoken to, for they are not just 'little boys', but heirs to The House of Nott, of Malfoy, or Lestrange. He has seen himself in the mirror countless times, but the face that peers back at him is always either dolled up in expensive green velvet or heavy golden dress robes or something equally prickly and unpleasant. He is not simply a boy, but the heir to The House of Black, after all.

But there, right there on the platform, is an actual boy, one who wears pants and a shirt, who plays on toy broomsticks with his friends, and climbs guava trees in his backyard, and picks bugs out of the grass, and does all those things that Sirius has seen little boys do on the street outside the window, the one on the topmost floor of their house that faces the London alleys outside and which his father has forbidden him from looking out of.

This boy is no older than he is, by the looks of it, but he is smaller and peakier, with thick brown hair and bright amber eyes. He is talking quietly to a lady, his mother perhaps, who is bending on her knees in front of him, periodically smoothing his hair out of his face as he speaks. She is a very pretty lady, with fresh blond curls and the same shade of gold circling her pupils. A man hovers nearby, tall, gruff, and tired-looking.

"... Can't go through the barrier, Mum. Only magical folks can," Sirius catches the boy explaining softly to the woman.

The mother gives an absent pat on the boy's cheek and says, "That's quite alright, Dad will take you inside then, love."

She pulls him close, giving him a brief hug as the rest of what she is saying is muffled in his hair. Her stance is oddly protective. Then she straightens up, giving his head one last awkward pat and steps back. The father puts his slender hand on the boy's shoulder in a reassuring grip and steers him to the magical barrier with the boy pushing his trolley in front of him. They disappear into the brick pillar together.

Mrs. Black watches them with a sneer. She draws Regulus closer to her, as if afraid that he'd catch whatever streak of uncultured upbringing the family of three has, in those two minutes, managed to convince Mrs. Black of possessing.

"Commoners," Mrs. Black hisses, "such flagrant demonstrations in company... No sense of propriety."

Sirius secretly wishes his mother would hug him goodbye like the pretty woman had hugged her son. He draws closer to her, resting his head very slightly against her side, wriggling so that her hand slides down his shoulder until it is almost an embrace.

Mrs. Black doesn't notice. She continues to mutter under her breath, and then readjusts the hand on his shoulder so that her bony fingers dig into Sirius' back, prodding him toward the barrier. The warmth he felt is gone, and he feels silly for even trying. He knows better than that. So instead, Sirius braces himself against the trolley and breaks out into a run. He closes his eyes as he nears impact, and then opens them when he hears a long-drawn whistle. He has made it to platform nine-and- three-quarters.

There are so many students. Sirius has never seen such a magnitude of children his age in one location. Little siblings chase each other around the platform, old friends greet each other enthusiastically, and the new students drink in the sights with avid excitement. Sirius sees the amber-eyed boy from Kings Cross standing in the corner where his father is talking to him rapidly. A few feet away, a boy with large spectacles is tugging a young girl's long brow ponytail. She ducks quickly, turning to yell at the boy, who laughs and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he backs off, making rude gestures to rile her further.

Sirius feels a sudden desire to join in their frolicking, see what it is like to pull a girl's hair without being flogged by his parents for it, or laugh loudly like the boy was without being told to behave himself lest he wishes to be exempted from dessert for a week, or simply move his limbs on his own accord, without having to ask for permission.

He feels a cold hand descend on his shoulder again. As if she has read his mind, Walburga tightens her grip painfully in a subtle sign of warning. Sirius looks up at her face; it is disapproving as she surveys the gay crowd around her.

"Your sisters will be here any moment. We'll wait for them."

Regulus draws closer to his mother, but his eyes are wide and curious as he takes in the scenes unfolding around him. Inside, Sirius feels quite as Regulus looks; surprised, unsure, and very curious.

"Ah, here they come ..."

Indeed, two girls have just stepped out of the brick wall with their trolleys in tow. The elder one is whispering furiously to the younger, who looks rather cross. They catch sight of Mrs. Black and immediately halt their conversation. The elder one straightens and gives the three of them a polite smile.

"Aunt Walburga."

Mrs. Black nods. "Andromeda."

"Aunt Walburga. Sirius," the younger one acknowledges them, her voice laced with a sickly sweetness. Mrs. Black nods at her. Sirius ignores her. She sniffs disdainfully and flips her thin blond hair over her shoulder.

He nods at Andromeda though, and she returns the gesture quickly. She is sizing him up, trying to assess what has been inflicted on him since they last met. When she concludes that he is quite intact, the wrinkles in her brows are smoothed. She turns to Mrs. Black.

"We're terribly sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Not at all," Mrs. Black replies. "We arrived shortly before you did."

The younger girl glances up at her sister with a hint of irate accusation, but Andromeda doesn't respond. "I'm glad to hear that."

Mrs. Black eyes the two girls carefully. She adjusts the cloak around her, releasing Sirius' shoulder. "I shall be on my way then. I entrust my son's custody in your hands; see to it that he gets onto the trains and stays out of trouble."

She eyes a passing group of chattering girls with mounting distaste. "I do not want him mingling with the ... wrong sorts. You understand."

"Of course," Andromeda says quickly, "I'll keep my eye on Sirius."

"I don't doubt you would," Mrs. Black says, "But I imagine your prefect duties will keep you preoccupied. I rather think Narcissa here could take up the mantle just as admirably."

Narcissa beams at her. Andromeda smiles tightly, "That's quite alright, I should think I could find time ..."

"No need, sister," Narcissa tells her sweetly, "I'll look after our dear cousin."

"I don't need to be looked after," Sirius tells her haughtily.

Mrs. Black immediately whirls on him, flashing him a venomous look as she hisses. "You will obey your sisters, both of them, or face the consequences when you're home next. I should imagine you've had enough floggings for the thought of another to keep you in line!"

This threat keeps silences him, although he glares fiercely back at his mother all the same.

"We should get him on the train," Andromeda says quietly.

Mrs. Black straightens, eyes boring into Sirius' face. "Keep well."

Then with a nod each to the girls, she vanishes back through the wall with Regulus in tow. Regulus waves frantically at Sirius as he disappears into the wall, his face glowing with the excitement that Sirius had forgotten he had been feeling all year until this moment. Sirius waves back and watches them go, feeling slightly relieved.

"Come Sirius," Narcissa titters. Andromeda glances sideways at her before beckoning Sirius to follow.

The train gives a loud whistle and students begin pouring in, parents hovering anxiously near the doors and windows.

"You take care now Eugene ..."

"... Have you your tonic on you ...?"

"KEEP THOSE FINGERS OUT OF YOUR NOSE!"

Andromeda and Narcissa help carry Sirius' luggage onto the train and Poseidon hoots at the sudden onset of jarring noises about him. Enchanted paper planes and small noisemakers fly and crackle about him as the unmistakable cacophony of a large number of youths gathered in a constrained area makes itself heard. Straightening their robes and exchanging a quick word, Narcissa and Andromeda turn simultaneously toward Sirius.

"Sirius, I have to go up front for the Prefects' meeting," Andromeda says, "Narcissa will take you to her compartment. Please ... do take care."

Sirius frowns slightly, wishing he had Andromeda's company instead, but dismisses the feeling with an uncaring shrug. With a last glance at him, Andromeda turns and walks the other way down the corridor.

"Come with me, Sirius," Narcissa croons, swinging her hair around and charming her trunk as well as his to levitate behind her. He follows her quietly, avoiding stray children, hovering trunks, and frogs that seem suddenly to augment in number as they make their way to the interior of the train. With a slight jolt beneath his feet Sirius has only to glance out of the windows to realize that the train has started to move, and he feels an unexpected thrill of anticipation as it strikes him that this is it, he is really off to Hogwarts, finally.

Narcissa leads him to a compartment near the end of the corridor that is obscured by curtains. She clears her throat and pushes the door, ushering a reluctant Sirius to step inside after her.

They are faced immediately with an unpleasant apparition that does nothing to ease the knot in Sirius' stomach. The girl looks down her long nose and fixes him with half-lidded, empty eyes.

"Rosetta Underwood!" Narcissa cries cheerfully, extending her cheek, whereupon 'Underwood' bestows a dry kiss, all the while fixing her daunting eyes on Sirius' face.

"Come in," Underwood grunts, stepping aside to reveal the other members of her gang.

Sirius recognizes most of the people in the compartment. A large number of them have stopped by the Noble House of Black during dinner parties, and some of them are regular visitors. He instantly spots Lucius Malfoy sitting in the center and lording over the company. Malfoy is a regular at the Blacks'; he is from a very wealthy family that traces its pure-blood lineage back centuries. He is also the eldest in their compartment, excluding Blaze, a burly seventh year who looks as lively as a stone carving. Underwood sits back down on her seat primly.

Malfoy glances at the two additions to their assembly, standing at the entrance. "Oh hullo, Narcissa," he drawls.

"Lucius," Narcissa purrs, making Sirius want to retch. Narcissa is evidently on very good terms with Lucius, as she has lost no time in telling everybody at home. Her mother had beamed at her and declared that her many conquests proved her worth. Bellatrix had commented that a boy would be a fool to overlook Narcissa. Andromeda had asked how she had done in school, which had inevitably put a damper on things. Druella Black loudly commented that finding Andromeda a suitor was proving to be more difficult than expected. Sirius had snorted into his drink and mumbled that Andromeda for one didn't need a pretty face alone to prove her worth; she actually had a decent head to go with it. Perhaps not as much as Narcissa, but Andromeda Black is an attractive witch. All the Blacks are.

"You remember my cousin Sirius, of course?" Narcissa continues, putting a hand on Sirius' head. He ducks out from under it. It is a childish thing to do.

Malfoy regards Sirius coldly. "Of course."

Malfoy isn't particularly fond of Sirius, owing to the fact that Sirius' usual sparse conversation with Malfoy involves cheeky comments designed to embarrass him in front of whichever crowd he happens to be boasting to. It is needless to say that Sirius doesn't like Malfoy either. In fact, Sirius doesn't like a lot of people in his family, which makes him rather cheeky in general.

"Aunt Walburga, you see, entrusted me with taking care of him; you know, making sure he's around the right sorts," Narcissa declares to the compartment. Blaze slowly turns his head to fix them with a stare. The rest of the occupants eye Sirius surreptitiously, sizing him up. Sirius eyes them openly, not hiding his disdain.

"Of course," repeats Malfoy, looking a little happier. This is his area of expertise, after all. "Not to worry Sirius, we'll introduce you to the right kinds of people here at Hogwarts. There are plenty of respectable families you can associate yourself with."

"Looking forward to it," says Sirius, but nobody seems to have caught the sarcasm.

"I was just talking about it to Rabastian here, in fact," Lucius continues, gesturing toward Blaze and Crabbe. Sirius had hardly noticed the puny body squashed between them, but as he lowers himself gingerly on the seat opposite, he sees a pinched face flash a sullen look at him.

"You are acquainted, I assume?"

"Yes," Sirius says.

"It's a shame he's joining his third year then, you two would have gotten along."

Both Sirius and Rabastian eye each other like they heavily doubt that.

"The Nott twins are in his year, you know, Eugene and Hasting Nott? Very affluent backgrounds. You should make it a point to keep up an acquaintance with them, Rabastian," Malfoy says.

Rabastian turns his sunken eyes on Malfoy and nods weakly.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the fresh batch this year," Malfoy continues. He scratches his chin and frowns.

"Fowler's starting," Blaze says suddenly, his voice hoarse and grating, "The eldest after Boston."

"Ah yes," Malfoy says, "Fowler's a good one to collect. His father's in the Ministry, on first name basis with the Minister of Magic himself, I've heard. Well Sirius, you'll do well to stick around him. I'll introduce him to you, if you like. You should have invited him here, Crabbe."

Crabbe grunts, as if forming a sentence is rather too much of an effort.

"Potter's here this year as well," Narcissa adds.

Blaze laughs suddenly, voice spiteful, "The Potters are a joke. The parents are off their rockers and the boy's rather full of himself. A waste of fine blood, if you ask me. I wouldn't want anything to do with that lot."

"The Potters may be a pack of blood-traitors, but that doesn't change the fact that they have connections," Malfoy speaks smoothly, "I wouldn't disregard the Potter boy if I were you. He has Britain's largest inheritance waiting for him to come of age ... it quite largely overshadows yours, Blaze."

Blaze's face immediately becomes sour, and he settles back into his stony stance in his seat and says no more.

"Oh don't fret Blaze," Narcissa titters, "You know Lucius is only teasing. So there's Potter and Fowler. Anybody else?"

"Boy called Snape," Underwood speaks up in her scratchy baritone. "Saw his name on his trunk when he dropped it on my toe, stupid blighter."

"Never heard of a wizarding family by the name of Snape," Malfoy frowns.

"Snape's half-blood," Narcissa pipes up, "He lives down on Spinner's End, a little way from Surrey. His father is a common muggle, and his mother's a Prince."

Underwood lets out a nasty hoot of laughter, "Disgusting. I can't imagine how they allow little freaks like that into Hogwarts."

"It's revolting," Narcissa declares proudly to all of them, "They shouldn't be here. They taint the purity of our blood with their adulterated ancestry. They're crude and uncultured. No dignity—it's because of their muggle pedigree."

Sirius' immediately draws upon his memory of the little amber-eyed boy and his muggle mother with her simple clothes and clear, beautiful face. There was a kindness and strength of resolve in those eyes that neither Narcissa nor Underwood nor any of the people in the compartment could ever hope to possess, and in Sirius' opinion, he has never seen more dignity in anybody he has ever met.

"Now, now, Narcissa," Malfoy says patronizingly, "We can't help that Dumbledore refuses to see sense. He's a filthy muggle-lover himself. What we can do is make those half-bloods and mudbloods realize what they are, and eventually they're bound to get the hint and simply drop out themselves. It's like filth—we can't help where it accumulates, but we sure can help clean it out when it gets dirty."

Sirius feels an acute flash of anger as he recalls the face of the woman on the platform again. He has always had a suicidal habit of dishing out saucy remarks when he should really just keep his mouth shut, and this time is no exception. Before he can bite down on his tongue, the words have already slipped out.

"Just like your mouth, Malfoy."

The silence that follows makes Sirius largely aware of how very loud the train actually is as it clangs and chugs past expanses of green. If he strains his ears, he can even hear the shouts of the students in the corridors through the muffliato cast on their door.

Time to make his exit.

Without a word, Sirius flees from the compartment.

* * *

The compartment door flies open, jolting Sirius out of his thoughts.

Narcissa has found his sanctuary rather quicker than he had hoped, although it couldn't have been too hard, seeing as this was the only empty compartment left. She shoots him a sour look and sits unceremoniously opposite him.

"What were you thinking?" Narcissa hisses.

Sirius doesn't reply, lower lip protruding slightly and chin jutting out in a gesture of defiance.

"I'm trying to help you out," Narcissa continues, "and you really ought to behave yourself, these are people who can be your friends, who will be your friends if you just let them, Sirius."

She is right. These are the people who will be his housemates for the next seven years, these are the people he'll live with, eat with, sleep in the dorm with, and he has no choice but to get along with them if he wants a passive, at best, slightly cheerful life at Hogwarts. His stomach feels heavy with the thought. He feels trapped.

"... Lucius especially, such a wonderful fellow, can't you even try to get along? You're so absolutely vile around him, it's so embarrassing!"

Narcissa pauses and squints at him. "Are you listening to me? I will tell your mother about this, mark my words, if you should behave so!"

Sirius has the sudden urge to stick out his tongue but holds it in at the last minute.

There is a feeble cough from the corner.

Both Narcissa and Sirius whip their heads around and are met by a pair of eyes, wide as saucers, staring back at them. The boy has a pale face, slight body, and a faded jumper, and Sirius recognized him as the boy he saw on the Kings Cross platform earlier. He hadn't noticed him when he'd stormed into the compartment. Sirius feels a sinking feeling.

Narcissa narrows her eyes, drinking in the boy's shabby clothing, small frame, and crumpled posture. Her upper lip draws back in a sneer, and when she addresses Sirius, she keeps her eyes fixed on the boy.

"That's the kind of company you want to stay away from, Sirius," Narcissa's hostile glare makes the boy shrink into his seat slightly, but he holds her gaze evenly.

Narcissa acknowledges this as defiance, and sneers, "What are you staring at, boy? Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

The boy doesn't respond; he doesn't tell Narcissa that she is the one who is staring, and she is the one who is being rude, but he simply purses his lips and continues to hold her gaze in a maddeningly calm way.

At the end of his already thin patience, Sirius realizes that he can't take any more of Narcissa's antics, lest he blow his top at her and earn himself a torrent of punishments from his ever-ready-with-the-whip mother. He leaps to his feet, a sour taste in his mouth.

"Let's go," he barks abruptly to Narcissa. He avoids looking at the boy. It is Sirius' fault she is in the compartment disturbing his peace, and really, he doesn't want to inflict Narcissa's conceit on an innocent party.

* * *

He hasn't the slightest clue where Narcissa is, nor does he care, for in the last hour he has managed to fill his plate to the brim with more trouble than should be normal for an eleven-year-old boy on a train full of school children. Raging, he stomps his way to the front of the carriage where he had seen Andromeda head off earlier and stops only when he is at the front of the train, facing the Prefects' Compartment.

If he closes his eyes, he is sure to see red sparks of rage shooting behind his eyelids. How dare, how dare that Potter kid insult him, who is he to judge where Sirius comes from? He doesn't know anything about Sirius, about being a Black, because he is just a stupid, spoilt, muggle-loving ...

They'd been getting along perfectly fine until Sirius had made a fatal slip. They'd been talking about Quidditch, Potter jabbering excitedly about the upcoming season and the Chudley Cannon's prospects going in to the first match. Sirius likes Quidditch too and was equally eager to contribute.

"I can't wait to see how their new chaser shakes out," Potter says cheerfully. "I heard he's top-notch."

"Mack Aguillard?" Sirius asks in surprise. "Do you really think he'd be any good?"

"Well why not? He has the best stats of any junior league chaser."

"I dunno, he's played seeker most of his time," Sirius points out.

"Ah well, that only goes to show his versatility," Potter replies sagely. "I reckon it also makes him faster than the others. He's got pure talent, that man."

Sirius shrugs. "I wouldn't keep your hopes up. He's a mudblood after all."

Potter gets up abruptly, and suddenly he is towering over Sirius, looking angry. "Say, watch it! You can't use that word. What that's supposed to matter anyhow, if he's muggleborn?"

Sirius stares up at him in surprise, at a loss for words. He isn't sure why Potter was suddenly so angry, he thought everyone knew that muggleborns had less magical blood in them, that their magical abilities were less strong. It wasn't their fault, of course, which Sirius felt his cousins didn't seem to understand, but it was just a biological fact.

"I mean he's a mud—a muggleborn," Sirius says, frowning. "They're less magical."

"That's a load of toss and you know it," Potter retorts, crossing his arms as he glares down at Sirius. "What an utterly moronic thing to say."

Sirius's face flushes with embarrassment. "Oh shut up, _you_ know I'm right, you're just too self-righteous to admit it."

"You are not right!"

"Am too!"

Potter is shaking his head, snorting derisively. "I should've known. You're just another bigoted Black, just like the rest of them!"

Sirius jumps to his feet, incensed, his blood pumping with rage. "You're no better, you're just as full of yourself as they are. They'd love _your_ company. You can chat about your inheritance, how _great _your ancestors are, how much your mummy and daddy _love_ showering you in money—you'd fit right in, don't think you wouldn't."

James's eyes flash and he takes a menacing step forward. "_I _am not a blood-obsessed snake. So why don't _you_ go back to your nasty cousins and leave the rest of be, eh?"

"Fuck off, who needs you anyway," Sirius spits, and he starts to storm out of the compartment, throwing open the door. There is a gaggle of students right outside who seemed to have heard his and Potter's argument and are whispering to each other, silencing themselves at the sight of Sirius.

Fed up, tired, and hurt, Sirius makes a face at them and shoves his way past. "Get out of my way, you idiots!"

His hand makes contact with a short, chubby boy, and he pushes him aside brusquely as he goes. The boy squeals and stumbles, perhaps having lost his balance, but Sirius doesn't turn back. He can hear commotion behind him, and he hears Potter's indignant roar. He doesn't however, hear Potter storm up behind him, so it comes as quite a surprise when he feels a hand pull him back, whirl him around, and then punch him in the face.

Sirius rubs his knuckles and scowls. His shoulder is bruised from where he had fallen when Potter had tackled him and caused them to tumble down the corridor in a tangle of boyish limbs and loud elementary cussing. The elder students had separated them then, the other boys jeering and goading and the blue-eyed plump boy Siirus had shoved aside had wathcing in abject horror and Sirius had suddenly had enough. He had fled the scene in a towering rage and the only person he feels he can tolerate right now is in a bloody prefects' meeting.

Unhappy, lonely, and hurting all over, Sirius slides to the floor outside the door, leaning against the wall to wait for a prefect to step out. He scowls and pulls his woolen coat tighter around him, wondering if everybody at Hogwarts will be so unpleasant and fervently hoping he won't have to be stuck with the likes of Potter year round, and suddenly, he wishes with all his heart that he could just go home because at the moment, that seems to him a happier prospect.

It is a good twenty minutes before the door creaks open, startling Sirius out of his dejected musings. A tall girl with black hair steps out, nearly tripping over Sirius with a cry of surprise.

"What in Merlin's ... Oi! What's the idea eh?"

Sirius jumps to his feet, staring up at the girl. The girl stares back.

"Are you a first year?"

Sirius nods.

She quirks an eyebrow at him, all her previous annoyance disappearing. "Is there ... erm ... something you want?"

"I want to talk to my cousin," Sirius replies.

She cocks her head. "Right. Does this cousin have a name?"

"Andromeda Black."

The girl's face clears. "Ah. And you are ...?"

"Her cousin."

"I got that part, surprising enough," she says cheerfully. "Any particular reason you wish me to drag her out of a prefects' meeting?"

"None that concerns you," Sirius replies coldly.

She smiles at him. "They get cuter as the years fly. Sorry to break it to you young man, but I happen to be the Head Girl, and as such you will find that any business that requires one of my prefects to leave the very first prefects' meeting of the year does indeed concern me."

Sirius flushes slightly but remains adamantly silent. The Head Girl regards him for a few seconds and arrives at some kind of conclusion, for when she speaks next, she sounds cheerful again and less stern. "Well you wait here then, cousin of Andromeda Black, I'll go fetch her."

The lights are dim, and it is dark out so he can only see grey streaks on a black background outside the window next to him. He is curled in his seat with a blanket tucked around him in a way only Andromeda can do, and though he would never admit it, he loves when Andromeda tucks him in. The lady with the cart of candy had come a few hours back and he had eaten a few chocolates, though he wasn't all that hungry. One or two people had come and gone; the Head Girl had come by and had talked to the Andromeda for half an hour, and so had a well-built golden-haired boy with a cheery face who had looked like he was good friends with Andromeda, because they sat very close next to each other for a long time and kept smiling at each other, and he had even patted Sirius' knee while he thought Sirius was asleep.

The gentle rhythmic rocking of the train lulls him to sleep, or perhaps he is just tired from the last few eventful hours. Soon he will be at Hogwarts, soon he will be sorted into Slytherin and it will be back to pretending, back to retreating into his shell and avoiding the world and then there will be seven years of that, but right now, he wants to sleep, because when he sleeps, the world seems a little more friendly, and he feels a little safer. He is a child who has grown up doubting his parent's love because it was so little expressed, but he is a child after all and he craves the gentle reassurance that only Andromeda has ever provided him, and that Uncle Alphard had provided Andromeda when she was little. They are kin in a family of strangers, they are the mutations of a perfectly bred society, and they stick together in thought even when they are miles apart and they watch each other's backs without a word needing to be uttered.

The way Andromeda looks at him sometimes, the way she is looking at him now as far as he can perceive through half-lidded, sleepy eyes, it is as if she wishes he were anywhere but here. Sirius is too clever to feel hurt, because he knows that it simply means she wishes his life were different. Perhaps it is because she sees her own childhood in his—though that might be doubtful, since Sirius is certain that she never blatantly rebelled as much as he does—but she knows exactly how to handle him. She doesn't coddle him and instead pushes him to take care of himself, because they both know that she won't be around forever, but the family name will. She doesn't force him to grow up as his parents do, because that doesn't work and it only serves to cement the part of him that wishes to be a child forever. Instead she lets him be a child, albeit a rather mature one, which he often doesn't deserve. She has always been the mature one, the way Bellatrix is the crazy one and Narcissa is the petty one. She had learnt quickly, and she had worked deftly, and she had figured out her own tricks to surviving, just as she lets Sirius figure out his.

She is no longer looking at him, but talking now, and so is the Head Girl, Edith Jude, and perhaps they are talking about him, but the solemnity of their expressions suggests to Sirius that they are probably speaking of prefect things, although he can't figure out what is making Andromeda's eyes flash like that.

The last thing he remembers before he falls back to sleep is the reflection of the compartment door opening in the window, and he hopes that they haven't reached yet because he wants this moment to go on for a few more hours before he is ready to emerge from his cocoon of blankets and comfort and into the cold world outside.


	5. Summer 1977 Lily Evans Likes to Ruminate

**SUMMER 1977**

* * *

"Lily-y-y, can you please tell you _friend_ not to stomp around on the stairs like a deranged elephant?"

Lily sighed and didn't remove the newspaper that was draped gracefully over her face, shielding her from the piercing rays of the sun that streamed through her window. She heard the stomping come to a halt momentarily, followed by—

"Oh shove it, Petunia."

Lily chuckled to herself. Marlene had spent too much time at the Evans's to be intimidated by Petunia. Not that Marlene was intimidated by anyone, really. Lily always guessed part of it was because she grew up a pureblood and had never had to doubt her place in the world. But also, that's just what Marlene was like: her tongue was too sharp for her own good, her temper too quick, her convictions too stubborn. Lily felt almost like a pacifist around her, sometimes, and Lily had always been considered the firebrand of her family.

Right on cue, Lily heard the door to her bedroom being thrown open, the stomping coming nearer and nearer. A moment later she had to shut her eyes as her face was suddenly exposed to harsh sunlight. She lifted her hand to shield it, squinting.

It was Marlene, her tight black curls piled atop her head in a messy bun as she frowned down at Lily. "Hey."

"Hey," Lily said. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Marlene lowered herself down on the bed, crawling over Lily to her other side and throwing herself down as well. She grabbed the newspaper she had set aside and spread it out over both their faces.

There was a brief silence.

"This isn't comfortable," Marlene grunted.

Lily snorted. "What do you want, Mar."

Marlene got up, the paper sliding of her face and Lily's. She crossed her legs and rested her back against the wall, her head blocking the sunlight so that Lily's face was in shade. Lily turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

"I read about the Stokelys," she said. "Was browsing the paper downstairs while I was having breakfast. Breakfast that you, might I add, haven't had yet. Is that why you've been moping all morning?"

"I'm not moping," Lily protested. "I'm … ruminating."

Marlene snorted. "You sound like a cow."

"You're a cow," Lily muttered.

"Classy. Come on, we need to get ready," Marlene said, nudging Lily's arm with her foot. "Mary will throw a fit, you know how she gets."

Lily sighed. Mary _would_ throw a fit. She didn't like being late. Lily turned to her side so that she was facing Marlene. "Thanks for letting her come along. I know you don't like her."

Marlene made a face. "It's not that I don't like her."

"But it is."

"It is," Marlene admitted. "But it's fine. She's doesn't feel safe, and she—I get it. It's fine."

Lily smiled humorlessly at her. Mary had called Lily out of the blue two days ago asking if she'd gone to Diagon Alley yet. It had been startling, not just because Lily hardly ever got calls—and if she did, they were often from Remus—but also because she and Mary hadn't talked over the phone since second year. They weren't friends like that anymore. She could hear it in Mary's voice as she made small talk at first, and eventually asked if she could tag along with Lily and Marlene when they went to get their Hogwarts things.

Lily knew right off the bat why she was asking. Evie Nicholson, the fifth Gryffindor girl from their year, was off on a vacation in Morocco with her family, which meant Mary didn't have company. And in this political climate, wandering the wizarding world on one's own was less and less an option. Lily knew why Mary wanted company because she had had no shortage of moments, even in her little muggle town, when she'd wondered who was lurking around the corner as she walked home, or felt a rush of adrenaline every time she thought someone across the street was reaching into their coats for their wand, only to pull out a wallet or a pocket watch. She knew exactly how Mary, felt. They were both muggleborn.

"Shall we?" Marlene asked, scooting to the edge of the bed and hopping to her feet. Lily got up slowly as Marlene shot out of the room and down the stairs. Gathering her messenger bag from where it hung on her chair and her wand off its wall stand, she sighed and made to follow. There was a crunch as her foot landed on the newspaper that had been draped across her face earlier. The heel of her shoe obscured most of the headline, strewn across the page in large capital letters, but she already knew what it said given that she'd been staring at it all morning.

_DARK WIZARDS SUSPECTED IN MURDER OF ORDER OF THE MERLIN RECIPIENT REBECCA STOKLEY AND FAMILY_

It was the Death Eaters, of course it was. What a ridiculous name for the murderous little gang of pureblood fanatics. It was lunacy to Lily that the Prophet insisted on not naming them as the guilty party, pretending like there were a bunch of nameless, faceless mass murderers out there who'd popped up out of nowhere and just so happened to only target muggleborns like Rebecca Stokley. People treated Tom Riddle's followers as if they were merely a group of conscientious citizens who held an unpopular political stance, rather than dangerous extremists advocating for genocide on the lines of blood purity. People would shrug when they demonstrated and gave speeches about starting a blood registry, pointing out that they had a right to profess their views. People would shake their heads and laugh at the ones handing out leaflets calling for harsher sentences for crimes committed using muggle weapons, or stronger sanctions against the misuse of muggle artifacts.

But nobody wanted to believe that a small number of them had surpassed political advocacy and manifestos, that the real threat came from the core group of "Death Eaters" who'd been behind the killings even while the real danger was still the people on the periphery pushing the agenda but "not really harming anybody". People didn't want to accept that what had started out as a rag-tag group of vigilantes going after muggleborns who'd committed crimes against purebloods had expanded into an underground syndicate of planning targeted, careful attacks. And puppeteering the entire operation behind a veil of elusiveness, was Tom Riddle—or Voldemort, as he was beginning to call himself.

Lily shoved the newspaper aside with her foot a little more harshly than she'd meant to before she closed her bedroom door behind her. Marlene was right, perhaps Stokley's killing was getting to her more than she thought.

Marlene wasn't in the kitchen when Lily arrived. It was just Mrs. Evans, sitting on the little round dining table in the corner sipping her coffee. She looked up as her daughter walked in and smiled.

"Marlene's outside in the car, and so is your father."

Lily nodded absently, changing direction to head to the front door.

"Lily?"

Mrs. Evans was peering carefully at Lily, who raised a questioning eyebrow at her mother. She beckoned to Lily, who obeyed, floating over to the dining table. Mrs. Evans didn't say a word, pulling Lily down to give her a long hug. Lily sighed and returned it, breathing in the lingering scent of Mrs. Evans's perfume, so soft and familiar and reassuring.

"Take care now, and don't be out too long," Mrs. Evans said, kissing the side of Lily's head before releasing her. Lily smiled gratefully at her, marveling for the hundredth time at how her mother was able to pick up on her moods and knew just what to say and do.

The trip to Birmingham was about an hour, but between Marlene's charming ability to keep up a conversation and Mr. Evans's enthusiasm for hearing about Marlene's travel stories, the car ride went by in no time. Marlene had gotten pretty good at managing the muggle world from all the time she spent with Lily in the summers. She had brought her own muggle money to buy her train ticket, confidently counting the proper number of pounds that she handed over to the man at the ticketing booth.

"Impressive," Lily chuckled.

Marlene winked. "Not bad, eh?"

The train ride was uneventful, and Lily and Marlene spent most of it playing cards. They swapped book recommendation and then spoke for a bit about how Kat was doing, who Marlene had been in more frequent contact with, about their post-Hogwarts plans, and about the classes they were most dreading taking this year. They doggedly avoided talking about the news, even while the woman a few seats away had her radio turned on, and it was blaring updates about a recent mysterious death of a family of five out in the country, and then one just a few kilometers from London. It was an ominous voiceover to have playing in the background.

"How'd your chat with Potter go?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Lily said immediately, rearranging the cards in her hand.

Marlene raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

"Well, no, actually, it was … alright," Lily admitted. "I just don't want to talk about Potter. Bad enough that they crowned him Head Boy. Git."

Marlene had gotten a very angrily worded letter from Lily delivered straight to her hotel room the very same day Lily had found out.

Marlene grinned. "Fair enough. He is getting his shit together though. I spoke to him earlier this summer when my mum went over to his place to visit Mr. Potter. Poor man. He wants to be an auror too, told me some good people I could talk to about it."

"Mr. Potter wants to be an auror?"

"No, idiot, I was talking about James."

"Oh. Well. Good for him," Lily shrugged. Marlene and James Potter had known each other since they were children, both coming from rich pureblood families that shared the same social circles. Lily had made her peace with it, but only because Marlene took even less of Potter's crap than Lily did, like an unimpressed sister that Potter never had but desperately needed.

"Five N.E.W.T.s to get into the auror training program," Marlene groaned, "_Five_. And I can't fall below Exceeding Expectations. It's madness, I tell you. How am I supposed to do that and take Quidditch seriously?"

"At least you don't have Head duties," Lily said darkly, "I'm really not sure why I signed on for that. St. Mungo's has an ace training program but I need five N.E.W.T.s too. And one of them is in Herbology. Eugh."

"Sluggy hates me, so there's no chance I'm going to do well in Potions," Marlene said with a glum sigh, throwing down a card from the few she had fanned out in front of her.

"Well if you hadn't pissed him off first year—"

"—He's a tool and I don't regret telling him that," Marlene said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know how you stand him."

"He's alright," Lily said, picking up the card Marlene threw down. "He's a bit distasteful sometimes but he's a good man deep down, and he's a really talented potioneer."

Marlene snorted. "Still a tool."

"You're a tool."

"Classy."

Once they reached London, they decided to forgo the tube and walk to the Leaky Cauldron. It always felt odd to Lily to walk around muggle London with a wand in her pocket, a form of deception where she felt both invisible and strangely conspicuous. Marlene didn't seem to mind, having embraced the fact that she was a stranger to all things muggle. She forced Lily to stop at a souvenir shop where she bought miniature keychain model of the Big Ben, two pens with the word "London" engraved on them, and a postcard to send to her sister. When they finally reached the Leaky, Lily knew Mary was going to be pissed off.

"She's probably been waiting twenty minutes now," Lily muttered, tapping the bricks of the wall in the back of the pub.

Marlene snorted. "She'll live."

Lily stepped back and the entrance to Diagon Alley parted for them. She felt an overwhelming sense of excitement, the one she felt every time the bricks moved at her touch since the first time she'd come with her parents as a little girl. It was the sense of coming home. Diagon Alley was packed with students carrying on with their back-to-school shopping. Lily could smell the pumpkin pasties from the stalls on the sidewalks and the potions bubbling in the apothecary down the street, she could hear the owls hooting from the emporium across from them, see sparks of magic whizzing in the air from outside the joke shop down the way. She took it in, closing her eyes just for a moment to feel the magic around her.

She felt a nudge on her shoulder from Marlene that jostled her out of her thoughts.

"At your 3 o'clock," Marlene muttered.

Lily looked surreptitiously in the direction she was instructed to.

"What?"

At first she wasn't sure what Marlene was trying to show her, but after scanning the crowd again she surmised it was the conspicuous couple dressed in expensive dress robes, their hair an identical jet black. The woman had heavy lids and thick eyebrows, and the man had a long beard that tapered at his chest. They looked around them with contempt and furtiveness as they slipped away in an alley between two brick buildings.

"Who …?"

"Agrona and Hedley Rosier," Marlene said, staring at the spot they'd disappeared.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Related to Evan Rosier?"

"His older sister and her husband," Marlene said. Evan Rosier was in their year at Hogwarts, and one of the Slytherins that Lily had repeatedly told Severus off for hanging out with, when they were still friends. "They're headed to Knockturn Alley. Cor, mum said they'd left the country last she heard. At least that's what they told the Ministry when they quit."

"Knockturn Alley," Lily repeated. "Is that bad?"

"Let's just say if it wasn't for shady business, there'd be no reason to be in Knockturn Alley," Marlene said. She glanced over her shoulder as they walked by the alley that the Rosier couple had disappeared into. "Only the darkest witches and wizards hang around there."

"What are the Rosiers doing in Knockturn Alley?" Lily asked, curious in spite of herself.

"I dunno," Marlene said furtively. Then she suddenly grabbed Lily's arm, making Lily jump, "Oh my god, that's Antonin Dolohov."

Lily felt a shiver run down her spine at hearing this name. Dolohov had been notoriously steadfast in his support for Riddle, spending much time leading rousing protests in front of Ministry buildings against legislation to protect muggles and muggleborns. But fistfights on the sidewalks were only the documented shenanigans—the word on the streets, that the Prophet would not say or could not confirm, was that he had been instrumental in carrying out planned torture and deaths at Riddle's bidding.

Lily wasn't sure if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy to say that Dolohov looked like a man who could torture. Somehow, seeing him in person was so much worse than seeing him in the paper, his face long, pale, and twisted. The real Dolohov was standing only a few meters away, looking about him angrily, his glinting black eyes scanning his surroundings. His movements were less stealthy than the Rosiers', almost rash in how aggressively he weaved through people as he traced the Rosiers' footsteps. Lily took a surreptitious step back even as his empty eyes moved past her, not knowing who she was. He scowled at a child running by him who almost collided into his leg, and then he stormed into the same alley and disappeared from view.

Marlene and Lily just stared in stunned silence for a moment.

"Do you think more of them are coming? Maybe they're meeting up?" Lily turned to Marlene.

"Could be," Marlene grunted. "Wonder if Riddle is there too."

Lily took a deep breath, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Let's go. Mary's waiting."

Mary was indeed waiting at their decided location right by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, tapping her foot impatiently as she glared at Lily and Marlene from a distance. She had her brown hair cut in a stylish bob that Lily thought actually looked very good on her, framing her round face and making her big blue eyes stand out. She moved aside as a gaggle of children burst through the shop door, running out into the sidewalks with towering ice cream cones that seemed to be on fire.

"Took you long enough," Mary said to them sourly as they approached.

"Top of the morning to you too," Marlene said cheerfully. "Got distracted, sorry."

"By what?" Mary asked, following them as they rejoined the throngs of people heading further down Diagon Alley.

"We saw the Rosiers and Dolohov sneaking into Knockturn Alley," Lily told her, lowering her voice.

Mary raised her eyebrow at them. "Knockturn Alley? That's fishy."

Marlene hummed in agreement. "It has to be Death Eaters. They're probably having some sort of meeting. I had half a mind to follow them."

Mary snorted. "Why on Earth would you want to follow them?"

"Well, if the Death Eaters are planning things then I for one want to know," Marlene declared.

"You, maybe," Mary said darkly, "But I don't. I want to be as far away from that carnage as I possibly can be."

"The carnage?" Lily asked, frowning.

"The whole damn war. Or 'conflict', if the Prophet's still too chicken to start calling it a war," Mary rolled her eyes.

Marlene raised her eyebrow. "I would think you'd want to stay and fight for your people."

It was Mary's turn to raise her eyebrow. "My people?"

"Well I meant, fight for muggleborns' place in the wizarding world and all."

Lily flinched, knowing what Marlene was getting at but wishing she'd phrased it more delicately.

Mary looked unimpressed, pursing her lips. "This isn't my only world. I have a whole other world, one that's currently under attack. I have a family that's under attack. No offense, but I'd rather fight for them to be safe, or just be elsewhere."

Marlene had the sense not to say anything, although she couldn't suppress the look of annoyance.

Mary had already moved on from the conversation and was standing on her toes waving at somebody down the road. "Kathleen! Hullo!"

'Kathleen', a bright-eyed girl in a blue scarf, waved back with equal enthusiasm. Mary rushed forward to meet her, both girls squealing as they hugged. Lily and Marlene hung back.

Marlene turned abruptly to Lily. "You agree with me, right? You'd want to know if Death Eaters are planning things?"

"Of course," said Lily at once.

Marlene turned away. "Right. Okay. I just don't understand her."

"You don't have to," Lily said calmly. "You won't. You're not muggleborn."

"I know that," Marlene said flatly. "But I just—I mean, _you_ agree with me, that she should stay and fight."

"I don't," Lily said, burying her hands deeper in her pocket. It would be easier to get Marlene to shut up if she just agreed, but she wasn't going to lie to her friend.

Marlene frowned. "You don't want to fight?"

"I didn't say that," Lily said.

"But—"

"—Stop. Just leave it be," Lily said with a sigh. She started to walk toward Mary, who turned when she saw Lily approach to introduce her to her friend. Marlene sighed and followed a moment later.

Their shopping after that went without any further disagreements. Marlene stopped by the Quidditch store to get supplies for the coming year—"Potter's real serious about winning this year, he'll hang me by my ears if my broom isn't fast enough because I didn't trim the ends," Marlene said by way of explanation—while Lily and Mary popped over to the stationary store to buy new quills. Lily liked to write, and while she had a special muggle pen she used just for that, she also she went through her quill set much too fast to wait for a Hogsmeade trip to replenish it.

"Did you know that Kathleen is seeing that girl from Hufflepuff, Lottie Flores," Mary said to Lily as they tried out various sample quills on a parchment pad.

"Oh?" Lily asked absently, writing her name in cursive with a flourish.

"Mhm," Mary said, her eyes lighting up the way they always did when she had some juicy gossip to share, "They're … _dating_. Like, properly."

"Is that a problem?" Lily asked, less absently this time and with a little more force.

Mary looked taken aback. "Oh no! No, of course not. … You know, I'm not against _that_. But it is uncommon, you have to admit. So brave of them to do it out in the open like that."

Lily said nothing, setting aside the quill in the pile of others she had chosen to buy. She remembered now why she didn't spend much time with Mary anymore. It was fun to hear Hogwarts gossip from her now and then, partake in the scandal, but Mary was sometimes a little too engrossed in other people's business. Mary was sociable, and she was good at it—she had lots of friends from many different houses at Hogwarts. People liked her because she was friendly and interested and involved. Lily was none of those things, on most days. She spent far too much time in her own head, and so when Mary and Lily were friends Mary would often tire of Lily, who would much rather hole up in her room and read a book, or study. Most of the people in Lily's life would tire of that—Petunia made it a point to remind Lily just how much of a bore she was.

Severus had never minded, Lily remembered with a bitter pang. They would sit and read together in silence, in fact, holed up in Lily's room, or under a tree on the abandoned property next to the junkyard. But Lily had Marlene and Kat now, and neither of them minded either. Marlene was more like Mary than she herself wanted to admit—Marlene, too, had lots of friends, although while Mary was kind and knew exactly what to say, Marlene's charm was her biting sense of humor and utter disregard for what people thought of her. But perhaps that's what also made her and Lily work: Marlene wasn't ashamed of Lily, and Lily never had to try to be someone she was not.

By the time they met back up with Marlene and made their way to Flourish and Blotts, Mary had moved on to a new scandal from the grapevine.

"Ronnie Elliott," Mary declared triumphantly. She pushed the door of the bookstore open and the little bell above them tinkled delicately. "Has been sleeping with Archibald Washington."

"I thought Archie was dating someone," Marlene said, fishing around in her pocket for the seventh-year book list they had received along with their Hogwarts letters.

"Exactly," Mary said smugly, crossing her arms. "She doesn't know about his affair with Ronnie. Although, it's Elliott, so are we really surprised?"

Lily snorted at this in agreement. Marlene looked over Mary's head and Lily, grinning. "Yes?"

"Well, are we surprised?" Lily asked, rolling her eyes.

"How uncharacteristically slut-shamey of you, Evans."

"Whatever," Lily said dismissively. "Elliott has bad taste, is all."

Mary hummed in agreement. Veronica Elliot was a pretty Ravenclaw girl in the year below them, and notorious for her many conquests of the boys at Hogwarts. Normally, this sort of thing didn't bother Lily, she wasn't a prude, after all, and she'd had her fair share of snogs in the Hogwarts broom closets. And in her hearts of hearts she knew her disdain for the Ravenclaw was unfair. But as with most things that gave her the feeling of a mild stomach ache, her history with Elliott started with bad memories involving James Potter.

The squeal of a child's laughter pierced through the quiet chatter of the bookstore and jarred Lily out of her musings. The girls turned their head to find the source craning to see where it was coming from. Moments later, they heard a roaring laughter.

"I think that's—" Lily didn't finish her sentence, realizing as she turned that Marlene had already left.

Mary was frowning, and she started walking to the back of the store. "C'mon, let's go look."

They made their way toward the ruckus, slipping past hordes of ambling witches and wizards browsing the tall bookcases and reading with their backs against the walls. They finally rounded the corner of a shelf in the back, freezing when they saw who was making the noise.

Speak of the devil.

"Potter?"

James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew looked up. They were sitting on stools, their legs too long to be comfortable. A little girl who couldn't have been much older than five was standing in the middle sporting shocking blue hair. They saw the girls and immediately looked sheepish, Remus looking especially so in his paper hat. James had a book propped open on his lap, brightly illustrated with moving picture of underwater creatures.

The little girl who had drawn their attention with her piercing squeals had suddenly gone quiet. She shuffled closer to James and was clutching his shirt with one hand. He instinctively placed a hand on her back, patting it even as his eyes were fixed on Lily. "Evans! MacDonald! Fancy seeing you two here."

"Is that … a child?" Mary asked, baffled, from beside Lily. She caught Peter's eye and they both immediately dropped their gazes, cheeks turning pink.

Lily was staring at Remus now, and she raised her eyebrow in amusement at the paper hat on his head. He grinned back sheepishly and waved. "Hey, Lily."

"This is Nymphadora," James told them. He winced and exclaimed a moment later when Nymphadora pinched him, her face scrunching up.

"Hey! You have to call me Dora," she scowled reaching to tug at his hair. James laughed helplessly as he pushed her away and she soon burst into peals of laughter as well, renewing her efforts with vigor.

"Alright, alright, Dora it is," James grinned, engulfing her reaching hands in his own. Dora stopped squirming, satisfied that she had frightened him into submission. "You're a little imp, aren't you?"

"I'm a kappa," Dora corrected, narrowing her eyes and hunching over as she wiggled her fingers.

"Are you sure you're not just a Grindylow?" James teased, poking her in the stomach. Dora squealed and swatted his hand away, before growling and jumping at him. James snorted and caught her, tickling her until she started to squeal.

Mary giggled, catching on to the child's infectious laughter. Lily regarded them quietly, but she couldn't help as her mouth started to turn upward.

"Cor, Potter, snatching children now, are we?"

Marlene had just emerged, carrying a stack of books which she peered over now. Lily wordlessly opened her bag and Marlene unceremoniously dumped the books into it. They disappeared with hardly a jostle into the magically enlarged rucksack. Marlene huffed, pushing tight black curls out of her face as she regarded James.

"I did _not_ kidnap her," James said indignantly. "She's Sirius's cousin. Nymphadora. I'm just watching her."

"Well I'll be. Black has a cousin that isn't Satan's spawn?"

"My name is _not_ Nymphadora," Dora growled, scrunching up her face, and suddenly her hair went from peacock blue to a bright, fiery red.

The girls gasped in unison.

"Pretty neat, eh?" James grinned.

"You turn her hair back, James!" Marlene exclaimed, pointing accusatorily at James. "That's not funny!"

"No, no," James said hastily, "She did that herself, I swear."

"She did," Remus confirmed. "She's a—"

"—She's a metamorphagus," Lily muttered, fascinated. Marlene's mouth turned into an 'O' shape and Mary whistled from behind her.

Sensing all eyes on her, Dora dropped her balled fists, her hair fading back to blue. She backed slowly into the shelf beside James, hunching her shoulders as she looked from one astonished face to another, wary.

Lily picked up on Dora's discomfort immediately, realizing the sudden attention was frightening the child. She stepped forward to James's other side and bent down, balancing herself on the balls of her feet. She peered kindly at Dora, offering her a smile.

"My name is Lily," Lily said amicably. She extended her hand. Dora eyed it momentarily and then took it.

"My name is Dora," Dora said, her voice regaining some of its old conviction.

"It's nice to meet you, Dora," Lily said solemnly, shaking her hand. "How old are you?"

"I'm four. I'm-I'm almost five though," Dora said proudly. Then she added, "And I can read books."

"That's very cool," Lily replied. "What've you been reading?"

Dora looked between Remus, James, and Peter. "A book about the sea." She jumped toward the center of their congregation and growled comically. "And I'm a kappa."

"Grindylow," James retorted.

Dora bared her teeth and growled at him, but she was smiling. "Am not!"

"Don't listen to him," Lily told Dora as James chuckled in the background. "He's just teasing."

Lily leaned forward conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, what he doesn't want you to know is that _he's_ a flobberworm."

"Hey!" James exclaimed in mock indignation, and Dora burst into peals of giggles. Lily grinned at her. "You take that back."

"Flobberworm," Dora crowed at James, jumping from one foot to another.

"Way to destroy my credibility, Evans," James said good-naturedly. Lily grinned and looked up at him: Their eyes caught—a rare moment of mirth passed between them as Dora continued her comical dance. But Lily averted her gaze quickly.

"How is she related to Black again?" Marlene broke the spell, leaning on one shoulder against the bookshelf.

"Andromeda's kid," James answered, his arm shooting out at the same time Lily also reached out to steady an imbalanced Dora, who had inexplicably managed to trip over her own feet mid-dance.

"Andromeda? The one who ran away?" Marlene asked in surprise, straightening up. "She's here? Is that safe?"

"Sirius has been in contact with her the last few months, they just arranged to meet up," James said.

But Remus was frowning, and he asked, "Safe? What do you mean?"

At this, Lily, Mary, and Marlene exchanged shrewd looks. Mary was the first to look away, her lips pursed, and a dark expression flittered across Marlene's face. Lily wordless continued to play with Dora, who was now crouched on her knees next to Lily, shifting through books on the lowest shelf. She did not want to start that argument again.

"The Rosiers are going to some sort of get-together in Knockturn Alley," Marlene said leaning forward, her voice dropping down to a murmur as she spoke.

"A get-together?" Peter asked nervously from beside Remus.

"Not sure what it's about."

"Aren't you?" Mary asked cryptically.

"Mary …" Lily sighed. She knew they were going to start where they'd left off before, and that neither of them was going to budge.

"Well? Isn't it rather obvious?" Mary asked impatiently. "They're gathering the Death Eaters. Probably planning an attack. Whatever. I don't know why it matters, we shouldn't be here. _I_ shouldn't be here."

Marlene huffed and crossed her arms, turning to retort, but Lily gave her a warning look and she retreated, still glowering.

"We should find Sirius," James frowned, looking between Remus and Peter. "He doesn't know, and neither does Andy." Andromeda Tonks's mother, Druella Black, was a Rosier sister.

Dora interrupted, having found a satisfactory book to read, and clambered onto James's lap. "Read to me some more," she demanded, pushing the book up to James's face.

"Pete and I can wait here with Dora," Remus offered. Dora looked up at hearing her name. James nodded in agreement.

"Remus and Peter can read for you," he told Dora, gently easing her from his lap onto the ground. She made a petulant face at James as she steadied herself on her feet, but he had already gotten up, looking troubled. He nudged her forward with his hand, and she reluctantly shuffled over to stand next to Remus.

"We'll come with you," Marlene said to James suddenly. "I'd like to meet Andromeda. And we're headed that way anyway."

James just shrugged.

Both Lily and Mary simultaneously turned to look at Marlene, the former looking reproachful and the latter looking vexed.

"We?" Mary asked incredulously.

"We're going with Potter to meet Black?" Lily asked, sounding slightly grumpy. She wasn't particularly keen on spending more time with either of them. She'd hoped this trip to Diagon Alley could be just the girls.

But Mary had other concerns on her mind.

"Hello?" Mary said, waving a hand aggressively in Marlene's face. "Did you not hear me when I said I shouldn't be anywhere _near_ them? I'm sorry, you might want to go do some fun sleuthing but I'm ready to go home, thank you very much."

"Nobody's stopping you," Marlene muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Mar_lene_ …" Lily said heavily.

Mary's face turned red. "_You _may have your fancy little pureblood family crest to protect you if you get jumped, McKinnon, but it's not _safe_ out there for me and I'm not walking all the way to tube myself—"

"—I can walk you, Mary," Peter suddenly piped up in a rare moment of bravery.

Mary looked critically between Peter, whose cheeks were starting to redden and Marlene, who simply shrugged, albeit with a little more contriteness. She relaxed her crossed arms, slightly placated. "Fine."

She then whirled around to look at Lily. "Are you coming?"

Lily rubbed the back of her neck, wincing as she slowly got to her feet. "Er, actually, I think I'm going to go with Mar."

She shrugged sheepishly at Mary's responding glower. "I want to know what what's going on, too."

"Fine," Mary said darkly. "If you all have death wishes, that's your problem. Peter—let's go, I have to be home for lunch or mum will have my head."

Peter scrambled to his feet immediately, ignoring Remus's look of panic at being relegated the entirety of the babysitting duties. "You bet!" He shrugged off Remus's hand that was tugging urgently at the corner of Peter's messenger bag.

Mary huffed, tapping her foot. James watched Peter in amusement as he gallantly offered to carry her bag, which she allowed, looking marginally less irritated. Nonetheless, she didn't say a word to Marlene or Lily as she turned away from them, marching resolutely toward the door and leaving Peter to sling the second bag over his other shoulder as he hurried behind her.

"Heh. Pete's making a move," James grinned at Remus. "Good for him."

Marlene snorted. "I really can't imagine why he'd go for a bore like her."

Lily rolled her eyes, starting to get irritated at Marlene's pigheadedness. "Stop it, she had a point, you know. About the pureblood thing. She _isn't_ safe here."

"Neither are you, but I don't see you throwing a fit about it," Marlene said.

Lily smiled humorlessly. "I'm probably not the best role model for self-preservation. Anyway, she has a right to be upset, so lay off."

Lily was going to say more but Dora, who had been squinting critically at Remus the whole time, interrupted, grabbing Remus's shirt sleeve and tugging on it. "Can you read?"

Remus looked at Dora in surprise like he had forgotten she was there for a moment. "Er, yes, actually, I can."

"Read this book to me," she ordered, heaving her chosen book onto his lap and flipping it open to the first page. She rocked back and forth on her heels restlessly, balancing herself by gripping his forearm.

Remus turned the book to look at the title, eyebrows raising in amusement. "'A History of the Flying Carpets Trade in the Magical Middle East'. Are you sure about that?"

Dora nodded her head vigorously. "It's a story about magic carpets! I like magic carpets!"

"Well," Remus said, adjusting the book on his lap so that it was facing her, "Didn't you tell me you could read? Why don't _you_ read it to _me_?"

Dora didn't look too sure about this, but eager to prove herself, she shuffled closer to Remus and grabbed the book by its edges, leaning forward until her nose was almost pressed against the page. Remus peered at the back of her head in amusement but waited patiently as she placed a little finger on the first line of the page.

"The Middle-Middle East has been a leader in the carpet ind-indus …" she read aloud, a look of deep concentration on her face.

"—industry," Remus corrected her gently, bending his head down as well to peer into the book. "It means a business, where people buy and sell carpets."

"Hm," Dora said. "Like a shop?"

"Not exactly," Remus said, "More like, a bunch of shops."

"Like Diagon Alley?"

"Sort of …"

"Remus found a reading buddy," James noted, watching Remus and Dora put their heads together like they were discussing serious worldly matters. "Well. They'll keep each other occupied. Shall we snoop around a bit, ladies?"


	6. (Flashback) 1975—76: The Best? Year Yet

**SEPTEMBER 10, 1975**

* * *

"Veronica Elliott is fit."

It started with this off-hand observation from James to Sirius as they sat in the bleachers with the rest of the team, watching the Ravenclaws wrap up their practice as they waited their turn for the pitch. Brenda Mackintosh, the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was eager to get started early, declaring on day one that she had a good feeling about their prospects this year. And why wouldn't she? James had to admit the team was as solid as it could possibly be: Brenda as an ace keeper, seventh-year Chudley Cannons prospect Wilhelmina Wilder as chaser along with Marlene McKinnon and James himself, newly minted Sirius and seasoned veteran Gregory Stark as their beaters, and a young new seeker that made Brenda's eyes sparkle when he dove fifty feet to catch the snitch during tryouts.

James had started the term feeling exceedingly good about how the year was going to turn out as a whole, despite their impending O.W.L.s. His best friend was on the team with him now after acing tryouts. Remus had been appointed a prefect, opening the door for new and exciting pranking possibilities for the Marauders. They had finished with the map right before the start of term, after having poured over it all summer. And they were ready, after three grueling years, to try out their animagi transformations at the next full moon. They hadn't told Remus yet—it was a surprise. But it was all Sirius could talk about that week, grinning from ear to ear as he transfigured his hand into a paw under the table during Charms.

This was set to be their best year yet. And why not top it off by snagging a pretty girl? Specifically, the Ravenclaw seeker with sleek black hair, full lips and dreamy eyes.

"Damn right she is," Sirius said, jiggling his foot lazily. "Everyone's after her. All the fourth-year boys already tried, she won't have them."

"She wants an older fellow, is what I'm hearing," James smirked. "I think I know our first Maraudering mission of the year."

And so it began, the elaborate scheme for James Potter to ask out Ronnie Elliott. It involved confetti stars raining down from the fake night sky of the Great Hall, and firecrackers flying out of people's goblets at dinner time, and a warbling singing raven that Sirius had managed to transfigure one of his fifteen muggle radios that he collected into.

She had said yes, of course. That much effort into asking out a girl, and James Potter was a Quidditch star, he was popular, he was attractive, and he was confident. She said yes while smirking ear to ear, and then had walked up to him and kissed him full on the lips in front of the whole school, Professor McGonagall yelling at them sharply from the front of the hall to behave themselves. The boys wolf-whistled, the girls tittering. James had grabbed her waist, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss and making her breath hitch. James had made this her moment, and she loved it.

Screw Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon, who were at the Gryffindor table making faces of disgust at her and James. Screw the rest of the Gryffindor girls, who looked jealous as all hell. Screw Veronica Beezley, sitting at the Ravenclaw table looking all concerned. Ronnie could take care of herself. Things were looking up for her, finally, and she was going to seize any chance she got to rise to the top of her peers. Perfect grades, perfect Quidditch plays, perfect boy.

This was going to be a good year for her.

**SEPTEMBER 19, 1975**

* * *

"Are you ready?"

James had never felt more ready in his life. He knew Sirius felt the same way, he could practically feel his best friend's excitement rolling off of him in waves. Peter was never really ready for anything, but for this he was as ready as he was ever going to be. They were ready.

Remus was looking at them warily, his amber eyes flittering from one person to another, tense, as if ready to run out of the room at any moment. James couldn't blame him, there had been plenty of instances just like this when James and Sirius had pulled Remus into a room to show him something 'exciting' and had ended up singeing off an eyebrow instead.

James looked at Peter. Peter looked back, and then looked at Sirius. Sirius winked, and then looked expectantly at James, waiting for the cue.

"What's going on?" Remus asked with mounting suspicion.

James took a good look at his friend. He could see the ghosts of scars across his face, the baggy eyes from his last full moon, the weight of the world pushing down his shoulders into a hunch. He saw Remus's clothes hanging off his body, his shirt too short because he hadn't put on any flesh since he first bought it three years ago, so it still technically 'fit'. He saw the guarded look in his amber eyes, recalling how terrified they had looked when James first asked him about his lycanthropy, how they'd filled with tears when Remus found out his friends were not, in fact, going to abandon him. That's when this had all started, that moment. James, Sirius, and Peter had promised themselves that never again would they bring that kind of fear back to Remus's eyes. Not on their account.

And three years later, here they were. They were ready. Remus would not have to scar anymore. He would not have to be alone anymore. Because he, James, would be there, and so would Sirius, and so would Peter. His pack.

"Cheers, Moony," James said with a salute. And then he closed his eyes and willed the magic to course through his bones like he'd practiced a hundred times before.

He didn't see Remus's eyes turn into the shape of saucers as James's body contorted graceful, growing bigger, his arms lengthening and slimming down, the hair on his head receding only to be replaced with what could really just be described as a tree growing on his head. He face elongated, his senses sharpening as the transformation took place. He finally unfurled himself, bursting forth in his full form, a gargantuan, majestic figure with a full head of antlers. His hooves rang against the stone floor and he pawed the ground satisfied.

James looked to his left. In the place of his friends was a large, hairy black dog and tiny little rat, squeaking incessantly. Sirius whined and the rat stop making noise. James huffed in amusement, knowing that Peter was just excited that it had worked, is all. Sirius was too, because he barked much too loudly, wagging his tail back and forth rapidly.

Remus had backed up against a ledge and sat down like his legs could support him no longer, speechless. He looked at James, and then at Sirius, and then at Peter, and suddenly he hung his head, burying his face into his hands.

The stag, dog, and rat looked at each other. Presently, the dog padded forward, whining as it rubbed its nose against Remus's hands. Remus parted them, his fringe still hiding his face so that James couldn't see Remus's expression. The dog whined some more, and Remus suddenly threw his arms around its neck, burying his face into its soft fur, clutching at it like it was a lifeline and he was drowning. He looked so young and vulnerable in that moment, just a boy. They were all just boys.

James thought for a split second that the sniffling sounds were coming from Sirius-the-dog, but the sniffling continued even as the dog transformed silently into a human, whispering softly into Remus's ear as Remus clutched at Sirius's shirt where his fur had been before. Sirius held him gently, tightly, and while James's eyesight was never the best, even as a stag, he could see Remus's shoulders moving up and down, and Sirius running his hand across Remus's back. James stayed where he was, patient, knowing that if there was anybody who could handle Remus like this, it was Sirius. They had a method, and he didn't interfere.

Presently, Remus lifted his head from Sirius's shoulder to look at James-the-stag and Peter-the-rat, his eyes red and puffy. He got slowly, unsteadily to his feet, his shirt rumpled, his hair askew. He walked tepidly, first toward Peter, who scampered into Remus's hands as he bent down and lowered them to the ground, and then toward James, Peter squeaking excitedly as he ran circles on Remus's outstretched palms. Remus deposited Peter onto James's shoulder and then finally looked up at James, meeting his eyes.

He lifted a tentative hand and James lowered his head slightly so that Remus could run his fingers down the stag's muzzle. When James looked back up at him, Remus was at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth as he gazed speechlessly at James and Peter. Sirius stood a few feet behind him, beaming like there was nothing else that could complete his world.

"Thank you, James," Remus whispered hoarsely. "Thank you."

The fierce rush of love that was coursing through James's veins at that moment told him this was going to be a good year.

**NOVEMBER 15, 1975**

* * *

"OI!"

Above the wild ecstasy of the crowd that stretched till halfway down the pitch, James could just barely make out the angry yell. Such was the crowd—mad with happiness, beyond reasoning, and James was in the thick of it, at the center, above them all from his perch on their shoulders. Their yelling and chanting were for him, and he loved it.

"OI YOU, IDIOT, I'M TALKING TO YOU."

James waved merrily at the crowd in a vague attempt to address the familiar voice. Amid the masses of golden and red flashing under the afternoon sun, he could hardly hope to find her.

"Put him DOWN I say!"

It was ridiculous and rather embarrassing how hastily his human palanquin dismantled at the utterance of the command and suddenly, he found himself standing in a circular clearing with spectators bordering its perimeter in expectant masses. James dusted himself off calmly and turned questioningly to the person hovering dangerously a few feet in front of him. The girl hopped off her broom and glared at him. James held his ground coolly. The crowd peopling the perimeter quieted down.

"Listen up, you git," Wilder scowled. James made a show of looking around and then pointed questioningly at himself in mock surprise.

"Don't mess with me," Wilder snapped, "I'm not interested in your cocky little show. What I'd like to know is what you think you were playing at out there on the field today, because I sure as hell couldn't tell."

"A win," James cocked his head at her, "Rather obviously."

"Yeah? What were you trying to win, a good snog? Because I swear Potter, if this has anything to do with that stupid airhead of a Ravenclaw you're dating ..."

"Hey, watch it," James scowled at her. The crowd murmured among themselves and James was suddenly acutely aware of it.

Wilder fixed him with a smirk.

"I got you your win, didn't I?" James continued, nettled.

"Oh well gee, thanks Potter, we really owe you one, mate," Wilder said in loud, exaggerated tones. "Thanks, really. It must have been such a hindrance to snag a win when you had obviously more important motives on your mind, eh?"

"Shut up," James muttered, face flaming as he realized in panic what Wilder was getting at.

"What, you think nobody realized? You think we wouldn't call you out on it eventually?" Wilder taunted, taking a step forward, "How stupid do you think we are? How stupid do you think _she_ is? I know who you want to impress, everyone does, and it's not your girlfriend, is it? Did you honestly believe that a few neat tricks up in the air and cute maneuvers on your broom would win her over?"

"Shut UP!" James bellowed. His ears were suddenly ringing and he wished the crowd would just disappear.

Wilder didn't comply. She sneered. "I'm telling you as it is, and since nobody's bothered to inform you of the obvious, I think I'll do the honor of it. Give it up. She's out of your league. The only way she'd ever even consider you would be if she could see past all your fucking self-importance but even then, all that you'd be left with is more of it. The only thing that wasn't fake about you was Quidditch, but even that's become some sort of joke to you, hasn't it?"

James was frozen. He couldn't speak, couldn't defend himself, because Wilder hit where it hurt, because her blow left him speechless. James Potter didn't give a flying fuck what people said to him, James Potter didn't care what people thought, but Wilder had knocked him clean off his feet.

"You don't know anything about me," he managed to spit out. Wilder covered the distance between them, teeth bared. She was a head shorter, but somehow much more intimidating than that should have made her.

"Maybe. But you know what? I don't give a fuck. You mess with my game, with my team, and I will squash you like a bug. There's no place for amateurs here."

He had never felt more humiliated in his life. Suddenly he felt stupid and young in his gold and red robes, he felt like a martyr, like Wilder had sacrificed his dignity in an attempt to make an example out of him in front of everybody.

Wilder frowned at him, her storm apparently having abated, leaving behind something akin to pity. "You're nothing but a sham behind that bravado, Potter, and I feel sorry for you."

She didn't give him another look as she turned her back on him. Incensed, he lifted his wand, ready to give her ugly warts, or jelly legs. Instead, he found himself sprawled on the ground flat on his back, gasping.

Wilder had hopped on her broom and was hovering near him, triumphant. "Hope you like the hair. It suits you."

There were people in the crowd who were snickering now as James scrambled to his feet, more livid and more humiliated than he could ever remember feeling in his life. With one last smirk, Wilder flew away, leaving James in a circle of silent spectators, ego wounded and cheeks stinging with mortification and hurt and anger.

James didn't wait for the murmuring and cackling of the crowd to escalate, and he didn't heed their cursory glances as he stormed to the changing rooms, hacking his way through the now subdued gaggle of people. He slammed the door shut inside, relief flooding him at the safety of a physical barrier between him and the outside world. He ran up to the mirror on the changing room wall, groaning as he noted gloomily that his hair was a vibrant, flamingo-pink.

He slid to the ground, slumping and staring at his broom. Wilder was wrong, she was wrong, because nothing could take away his love for flying, nothing could mar the pristine nature or what he felt for the sport, nothing in the world. Wilder was wrong, he was not fake, because the one thing he prided himself on (in addition to a million others; it couldn't be helped, he was just that talented) was his candor, his frankness, his refusal to wear a mask or hide any facet of who he was.

James was not a sham.

Wilder knew precisely where to hit. Her insults were not unlike her quaffle; every winning goal was a product of perspicacious calculations and shrewd insight. She hit where it hurt the most, and in those five minutes she'd ruthlessly pulled out every single one of his insecurities for the entire student body of Hogwarts to see.

It was far beyond what he deserved, and he was burning with shame and anger and indignation.

There was a gentle knocking at the door. James scrambled to his feet, face hardening defensively as somebody slipped into the changing room and shut the door behind them.

Brenda Mackintosh faced James quietly, scrutinizing his face. "Hey."

James balled his fists and pursed his lips. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," Brenda said quietly.

"Nice of you to drop in to my defense," James said scathingly, "Really appreciated the help out there."

Brenda shot him a funny look and shrugged as she pulled off the Keeper's armor off her Quidditch robes, "Since when does James Potter need help?"

James scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, "You think what she did was right, don't you? You agree with her."

Brenda straightened her shirt and rolled her eyes, "What do you want, James, reassurance? You want me to deny whatever she said? Would that make you feel better?"

"I want you to deny it because it's not true!" James demanded.

"I wouldn't say all of it was wrong either," Brenda shot back, "You know Wilder doesn't like when you bring your personal issues out on the field, and she especially hates it if you use the game for personal means. And frankly, as Captain, I agree with her."

James simply scowled. Brenda untangled her knotted braid and combed her hair with her fingers. She sighed. "James, we all know how much Quidditch means to you, how much flying means to you, but the way you've been acting this year, I dunno. It's like Wilder said, we don't care who you are outside the field but when you're playing, you're James Potter, Gryffindor Chaser, and one of the best damn flyers our team has ever seen. There's no place on my team for your arrogance, you hear?"

Brenda tossed her braid over her shoulder and gathered her things, "I didn't stop her not because I agreed with what she said, hell, I doubt she agreed with what she said, but frankly, you needed to be taken down a notch. Now suit up and get your whipped ass back to the common room, there's still a victory to be celebrated. And you can punch Wilder over the pumpkin pasties your friends have smuggled, I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

Brenda gave him a smile before she left. James stared down at his feet, mulling over what she said. He left the changing room half an hour later, hair still flamingo-pink and broom held resolutely in one hand. This was supposed to be a good year for him, and he was going to damn well make sure it was.

**JANUARY 18, 1976**

* * *

Veronica Beezley was waiting outside Three Broomsticks, stomping her feet to keep herself warm. She waved at them half in relief as they approached. "Thank god you're here, I've been waiting for ages."

She kissed Remus on his cheek and then smiled affably at Lily. "Hallo Lily."

"Hallo," Lily smiled back. She and Remus had just left a prefects meeting together. It had run much longer than either of them had anticipated, cutting into precious Hogsmeade time. Luckily, they'd made it before the last of the carriages left, because otherwise they'd have had to walk, and at that point Lily would probably just ditch Marlene and Kat and return to the dormitory to read under her covers.

Remus nudged Vera with his shoulder. "What brings you out here?"

Veronica grimaced, "They're at it again."

Remus hummed sympathetically but said no more. Lily looked between them curiously but let the subject drop as they stepped into Three Broomsticks, suddenly warmed by the low humming of the crowd and wafting scent of butterbeer as they opened the tinkering door.

They squeezed themselves through the crowd as Vera led them to the back of the room littered with booths. She stopped near one of them and when Lily caught up, she realized what the fuss was about.

At first it was rather hard to tell them apart amid the entangled limbs and odd muffled noises. It was when Remus cleared his throat distinctly that two heads seemed to take shape from the otherwise indistinguishable mass.

James Potter arranged his arms on the backrest of the sofa and smirked at them infuriatingly. Veronica Elliott straightened up, all pink flushed cheeks and mussed hair, and beamed at them from her position on his lap. "Hi Remus. Evans."

Lily's eyes flashed, but she kept the contempt out of her voice. "Elliott."

Potter continued to grin as he addressed Remus, but his gaze kept flitting toward Lily. "We were wondering what was keeping you."

"Took you long enough," Sirius Black snapped moodily. He was sulking on the other side of the table, shoulders hunched and lips set in a frown. Peter Pettigrew shifted awkwardly next to him, obviously not very comfortable being stuck between a rather enthusiastic James and a sullen Sirius.

Remus shot Sirius a sympathetic look as Potter muttered something in Elliott's ear, who giggled and tugged at his tie to pull him closer to her. Lily crossed her arms and ignored them completely. Vera slid into the space next to Sirius and patted the sofa. "Well, sit."

Remus turned sheepishly towards Lily, "Ah … care to join us for a drink?"

"I'd rather not," she replied.

"James won't be a bother," Remus said, lowering his voice and leaning in, "His attention is otherwise … erm … otherwise diverted. Besides, I don't reckon you want to sit alone waiting for Marlene and Kat."

She considered this and against her better judgement, obliged. "Alright."

He courteously stepped back in order to allow her to slide in next to Vera and followed in after her. It was a rather awkward arrangement, and everybody toyed with their drinks, trying frantically to cast around for a topic to drown out the giggling and smacking noises coming from the other end of the table.

Presently, Sirius broke the silence.

"So," he said loudly. "What brings you here, Evans?"

"Marlene has some work across the street," Lily said politely. "She asked me to wait here for her."

"What would you like to drink?" Remus asked Lily. He had waved over a waiter to their booth, and the woman stood poised with a tray, her notepad and quill hovering in midair in front of her. She kept glancing at the other end of their table.

"Er … just a butterbeer, thanks."

"Sure? Alright … any of you want anything else?"

They collectively shook their heads. Potter gestured suddenly from his spot and pried his face away from Elliott's. "Order the—"

"—usual, yes, I will," Remus told him, his voice laced with amused disapproval and exasperation. Potter winked at him and returned to his ministrations.

Vera cleared her throat. "What took you so long anyway? We thought you'd be here before us."

"Professor McGonagall was giving her disciplinary report," Remus said, turning back to them. "We'd forgotten about that. She had a pretty long list of concerns, the most recent being the suits of armor outside the Dungeons—they seem to have developed a habit of tripping whoever's walking by."

At this, Pettigrew turned instinctively toward Sirius, who looked back at everyone with wide eyes, attempting unconvincingly to look innocence.

Remus continued to look pointedly at Sirius over his drink. "The consensus was that the whoever did it carried out his activities Saturday night."

"And you suspect moi?" Sirius asked, sounding dramatically affronted.

"Should I? I was actually under the impression that you were doing something rather productive at that time."

Sirius stirred his drink lazily, grinning cheekily. "Define 'productive.'"

"I don't see why you still believe him," Pettigrew told Remus reproachfully.

Remus sighed in a good-natured way. "I try not to give up hope."

Lily looked at him expectantly, anticipating that he would rile Sirius further, but he didn't, and she frowned at him.

It was not so much that she couldn't appreciate the humor in the prank—Lily actually thought it was quite funny, and it had been difficult to keep a straight face as McGonagall listed off complaints from students who had been tripped in various, creative ways. It was a harmless joke that was easily remedied. It was more that Sirius Black's ego didn't need to be fed; indeed, it needed to be locked in a cellar and starved to death.

Still frowning, she turned to Sirius. "You shouldn't have done that."

Remus, Pettigrew, and Veronica stiffened. Sirius raised his eyebrows. "And why's that?"

Her frowned deepened. "It's against the rules."

"Oh," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Well, I didn't think it was against the rules or anything. That takes the fun out of it in hindsight."

"I'd get off my high horse if I were you," she snapped at him, irritated that he never seemed to take her seriously. "Remus and I are prefects, so you'd better watch your step."

Sirius cuffed Remus in the back of the neck. "Ah, Evans, that's where you're wrong. Remus won't do me in, would you, eh, Moony?"

Remus delicately stirred his drink, a small smile playing on his lips.

Sirius grinned contemptuously and threw the remainder of his butterbeer down his throat in one graceful motion. Lily turned to Remus, whose eyes were fixed firmly on his drink. She leaned in so that their conversation couldn't be heard by the others.

"What're you playing at?" Lily whispered flatly. "You couldn't back me up there?"

"I'm not encouraging it," he replied evenly.

"You're not discouraging it either."

"Drop it," he said suddenly.

"But …"

He straightened up and spoke softly. "We'll talk later." Then he leaned forward, eyes fixed past her. "So, Peter, finished your essay?"

Pettigrew looked up, his facing lighting up. "Yes, I did. It took a bit of time but I think I'm quite happy with it. Your book was really helpful, by the way."

Remus smiled at him in return, and then turned amicably to Lily. "It's called _Brewing With the Potioneer_. I think you'd find it pretty interesting."

Lily desperately wanted to continue their conversation, but the new topic that had sprung up caught her interest, and the latter finally won out. "You have that one? It was on the best seller list for weeks."

"Rightfully," Pettigrew added cheerfully. "I think I'll borrow it longer, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Were you working on Slughorn's essay?" Lily enquired.

Pettigrew nodded. Sirius yawned pointedly.

"Did you finish it?" Lily continued, ignoring Sirius.

"Just before coming here. I was stuck at the holly leaves."

"So was I," Lily said. "I couldn't quite figure out how to dilute it without disrupting water balance and the concentration of the substrate."

Pettigrew beamed, happy to find a topic he was quite able to contribute to. "I thought so too, but the book suggested I use a thickener—Redbeetle blood, preferably. There's some in the storage for students to use."

"But that's brilliant," Lily said in surprise. "I didn't think of that. It's neutral, so it shouldn't tamper with acidity. I'd like to see this book once we get back, if you don't mind?"

"Fantastic!"

"Swell," Sirius muttered flatly.

"Drinks are here," Verona pointed out.

They went quiet as the waitress placed Lily's butterbeer in front of her and Potter's "usual" in front of him with a loud cough. The momentary flow in conversation came to a staggering halt, and the uncomfortable silence pounced right back in as everybody committed wholeheartedly to avoiding looking at Elliott and Potter. There was a lot of shuffling on their side and some giggling as well, before Elliott withdrew from Potter to grab his drink by the stem of the glass.

"Thirsty, love?" she crooned, delicately picking up his glass and bringing it near his mouth. He took a long sip, and when he was done, Elliott placed it back on the table. Lily made a small sound of disgust next to Remus.

Potter smirked as Elliott leaned down and nuzzled his neck. His eyes snapped open and he fixed his attention on Lily, seated opposite him. He shifted his head a bit so that he could see her properly, one hand slung around Elliott.

"So, Evans," he said, eyes on her face. She clutched her drink with white knuckles and stared determinedly back.

"Yes?"

Their eyes locked, and then—

"Go out with me?" He blurted.

The glass in front of James toppled and spilled its contents on the table, rolling off the table and shattering loudly as Elliott suddenly wretched herself away from James, sitting up straight. If the silence had been awkward before, it was positively deafening now. Vera and Peter dove into their drinks with renewed vigor. Elliott was frozen on her spot.

Remus, first to react, had jumped to his feet, pointing his wand first at the table and then the broken shards at his feet, trying to tidy the mess. Sirius looked slowly between James and Lily, his eyebrows rising like elevators up his forehead and almost disappearing under his hair.

Lily stared at Potter, who was sprawled on his seat with Elliott sitting stiffly in his lap. She felt herself flush with mortification as the people in their immediate vicinity turned to look at their booth. The waitress hurried to their table, relieved when Remus straightened and wordlessly handed her the fixed glass.

"Er, shall I bring a replacement?" She asked him hesitantly.

"Don't bother, take mine, I haven't touched it," Lily said suddenly, her voice tight. She dug in her pocket and placed three gold coins on the table. When she slid out of her seat, nobody stopped her. Grabbing her bag, she swung it around her shoulder, staring determinedly ahead of her and she started stiffly toward the direction of the exit.

"Evans …"

She whirled on Potter, her face drawn in a sneer of such great disgust that he shut his mouth immediately.

"You're sick," she spat at him. Then she stormed away from their table, hair flying out behind her.

"Evans … Oi, EVANS!"

Potter hastily got to his feet, pushing Elliott off his lap and onto the sofa. He freed his legs from under the table, jumped to his feet, and took off after Lily without a backward glance. People stared at his progress, then shook their heads and eventually the usual chatter filled the room once more.

Elliott stared at the table, stiff and straight-backed, and everybody avoided looking at her out of politeness. Vera toyed with her drink, swirling the remainders of it at the bottom of her glass. Remus fumbled with the money, counting it to the last penny very meticulously. Peter fidgeted with his hands. Sirius looked enormously amused and sat drumming his fingers on the table to fill in the lack of conversation that had become rather a redundant state of affairs among them.

"Tell him not to wait up," Elliott said suddenly, her voice slightly off-pitch. Without looking at any of them, she threw a few coins on the table, grabbed her things, and fled.

Sirius whistled slowly, "Well."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out his signature long-suffering sigh.

"He's not going to be very happy when he comes back," Peter noted glumly. "I think he paid for an elaborate date at Puddifoot's."

"Serves him right," Remus said flatly.

"Doesn't serve me right," Sirius said darkly, "Evans will give him a good dressing down before he gets back, and he's wretched when he's pining. What a waste of a Sunday."

**JANUARY 20, 1976**

* * *

This was supposed to be his year, but things were not exactly going how he'd planned.

Currently, the problem was his angry girlfriend. James was frowning as he stared at a spot behind Remus. "Elliot's still mad at me."

"I wonder why," Remus commented dryly, turning a page of The Prophet. It was breakfast two days after the disastrous Three Broomsticks incident, and Ronnie had not said a word to James since. By all indications, it looked like the end of James and Ronnie's short-lived, tumultuous relationship.

"What should I do?"

"Apologize, for starters."

"Okay." James leaned forward on the table, cupping his hands around his mouth and hollering, "OI RONNIE."

People at their table gave a start, turning their sleepy glares in his direction. Ronnie looked up from her spot on the Ravenclaw table and gave James a cold, expectant look. Remus cringed.

"SORRY," he yelled.

She narrowed her eyes, tossed her hair over her shoulder and returned to her meal. Next to her, Mel Diamond dutifully turned her nose up at James and patted Ronnie's back.

James turned back to Remus. "Didn't work," he said simply. "Your advice was bollocks."

Sirius snorted merrily into his pumpkin juice. Remus fixed James with a nettled look, as if he had taken this jab at his advice-giving quite personally. "I hardly think screaming it out to Great Hall is going to have her cradling you to her bosom."

A dreamy look came over James' face.

"Honestly James, could you please focus ...?"

James grinned, shaking his head, "Right, head out of gutter. Er … what should I do then? Padfoot, any suggestions?"

"Your bird, mate," Sirius shrugged. "Women and I don't last long enough for this sort of thing to happen."

"Maybe you should give her something?" Peter piped up next to Remus. Remus looked at him in surprise.

"That's a wonderful idea, Pete."

James was frowning again, "What should I give her?"

"Well, what does she like?" Sirius asked, reaching over for more toast.

"… Snogging?"

"I meant something you could wrap in a box, idiot."

James ran a hand through his hair, "Er … I don't know …"

"You don't know what your girlfriend likes?" Remus asked flatly.

James shot him a petulant look.

"She's never mentioned in any of your conversations?"

"We don't exactly converse much. It's just mostly …"

"Snogging," Remus concluded.

"Cor, I really missed a chance with Elliott," Sirius sighed. James punched him lightly on his shoulder, giving him a mock look of annoyance. "Watch it mate, that's my girlfriend you're talking about."

Sirius snorted. "Not for long, she won't be, not if you keep acting like a git."

"You could give her chocolates," Peter suggested suddenly, "Girls like chocolate."

"I'm starting to think Wormtail knows more about girls than you do, Prongs," Sirius commented.

James looked mortally offended.

"You both known next to nothing about girls," Remus said sternly. "For one, they're human beings."

"Don't start, Moony, you've been on like, five dates and you've still got your flower intact."

Remus turned up his nose in the most dignified way he could as he buttered his toast, looking at Sirius with prudish disdain. "My flower is none of your business, Black."

"Yeah mate, we didn't all jump into bed at the ripe old age of thirteen," James said.

Sirius looked taken aback. "Is that what people think? That I gave it up at thirteen?"

"I heard Mary MacDonald telling Rita Firestone about it last year," Peter supplied.

"How the hell would MacDonald know about my virginity?" Sirius asked, laughing.

"I think it was after you made out with her in the broom closet," Peter said.

"Does it matter?" James said darkly. "Figures that the worst rumor out there about you are that you're a player. Har har, what a tragedy."

Sirius grinned devilishly, eyes glinting. "Eh, it does make me sound rather fetching, doesn't it? Maybe it'll make it back to my mum. She'd bust a blood vessel if she heard I spread Black family seed to random girls at Hogwarts."

Peter choked on his breakfast. Remus closed his eyes and sighed, his face twisted in an expression of intense suffering. James looked slightly green.

"Never use the phrase 'Black family seed' again or I'll shove your face in a toilet."

**FEBRUARY 15, 1976**

* * *

This was the worst year yet.

It was a strange thought to have, standing before the headmaster of Hogwarts School, covered in blood and sweat and grime, dripping mud onto the deep red carpet. It was strange because the moment he thought it, he wanted to laugh at how little all of that matter, how little he cared at that moment about the match he'd won for Gryffindor, his pretty girlfriend, his Transfiguration achievement. This was, by far, the darkest day of his life so far, and he had had no idea it was coming. That's really what made all of this funny, how blindsided he had been by this, how everything had been turned upside down in the last few hours, irreparably broken.

He continued to stare numbly at Dumbledore's expansive mahogany desk, aware that the headmaster was talking but unable to make sense of any of the words, which seemed to be floating into one ear and out the other. The headmaster luckily was not addressing him at all but was rather staring straight into the face of Sirius Black, eyes thunderously cold.

James felt his blood boiling all over again, but he was too exhausted for his anger to manifest in any way. He was tired to his bones, he just wanted to lie down and let the adrenaline run its course and deliver him to the sweet release of sleep.

Another voice joined the fray, but this one wasn't low and commanding, it was screechy and nasal. Annoying, really. James realized it was Sniv-Snape, pointing an accusatory finger at Sirius's face, spittle flying from his mouth as he continued on his furious tirade. Nobody was stopping him, and James wished somebody would because it was giving him a headache. Dumbledore did not stop him, Peter definitely didn't stop him—Peter had been wide-eyed and tight-lipped and glued to his seat the whole damn time—and Sirius didn't stop him either, head hung low and body motionless and he sat crumpled in his chair like he was going to disappear into himself.

It was Dumbledore who swooped in before James's headache turned into a full-blown migraine.

"Enough, Mr. Snape," Dumbledore said sharply. "You have made yourself exceedingly clear. I want you to head over to the Hospital Wing and have Madam Pomfrey take a look at your injuries. You will speak to nobody on your way there, am I understood? Believe you me, Mr. Snape, I will know if you tell. You are to sit there and wait for me. Once I am finished here, I assure you I will come straight to you and answer all your questions. But until then, not a word."

Snape looked like he was ready to throw something at Dumbledore, but he complied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He whirled around and his robes billowed out behind him, and James felt he really did look like Count Dracula in that moment. As Snape walked by him he caught James's eye, and there was a look of such unadulterated hatred on his face that James wanted to laugh. Of all the people to hate for this whole debacle, if it was James he chose to loathe for the rest of his life, so be it, especially if that meant Moony would be off the hook.

Git.

"Mr. Potter."

For one wild moment, James was afraid he'd uttered the insult out loud. But Dumbledore didn't look angry, well, not at him, anyway. He lowered himself down on his desk and gazed inscrutably at James from over the top of his glasses.

"I want to make sure Madam Pomfrey has a look at you as well, before you head off to bed. But before I send you off, I wanted to get in a word. Mr. Potter, what you did today was rash. It was bold. It was brave. And it was befitting of a disciple of Godric Gryffindor. Not only did you save the life of another student—one that I know for a fact you do not get on with—but you saved the lives of both your friends, Mr. Black here included."

James glanced furtively at Sirius, who let out a shuddering breath of air. James could hardly recognize his friend, who looked so utterly broken that it was frightening. James wanted to punch him again, to shake him and ask him why, why he would do something so stupid. Why, after everything they'd done for Moony, would he throw it all away.

Moony. The rage in his stomach was replaced with panic and fear, the same amalgam of emotions that had propelled him down the Whomping Willow tunnel that night in hot pursuit of his most hated nemesis Severus Snape, whose best-case outcome was that he'd become a werewolf, and whose worst-case outcome was that he'd be ripped to shreds.

"I didn't do it for Sniv-for Snape," James blurted. "Well I mean. I don't want him dead, I suppose."

There was a pause, and then James added helpfully with feeling, "Git."

A small snort came from the direction of Sirius's chair. James ignored it, remembering how mind-numbingly furious he was at Sirius just then.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said simply. "For your act of sheer bravery, and for doing the right thing. You risked your life today, and Severus will forever be indebted to you for that, which is no doubt why he is currently furious with you. Regardless, you also did me a service today, and for that, I am in your debt, Mr. Potter. I cannot give you any more recognition than that, given the confidential nature of this incident, so my gratitude will have to suffice. As will 100 points to Gryffindor."

"Right," James said, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. "Yeah. No problem."

Dumbledore turned back to Sirius even as he continued addressing James. "You may leave. Mr. Pettigrew can escort you to the Hospital Wing before he heads back to the dormitories."

"Right, okay," James said. "And what about Sirius?" He asked despite himself, surprised that amid the whirlwind of emotions stifling him at the moment, he was still concerned for his friend.

"Mr. Black and I need to have a long, private chat," Dumbledore said. Nothing in the way he said that made it seem like it would be a pleasant conversation by any measure. Sirius looked up at the Headmaster cautiously, eyes glazed over in fear and devastation and shame.

Peter slowly got up, shuffling over to where James was standing and looking up at him expectantly. James hesitated, shifting from one foot to another as he struggled to figure out whether he should say what he wanted to say.

Well, fuck it.

"Sirius isn't a monster," James blurted. "He's just …" Just what. It was difficult for James to believe, at that moment, that the boy slouching in the chair across from the Headmaster was the same boy he'd seen care for Remus, tending to his wounds, aiding his recovery month after month. That this was the same boy James trusted with his life, who he knew would never, ever betray his friends.

Or so he thought. Or so he wanted to keep believing, because what else was there left to do but believe?

Sirius looked at him then, and never had James seen Sirius so broken, so lost, like a trapped child groping in the dark for some way out. His eyes met James, and all James could see was devastation.

"He's not a monster," James finished, firm. He didn't wait any longer to hear what Dumbledore had to say, or what Sirius wanted to convey to him. James was so, so tired, so spent, that he felt he could fall asleep on his feet. But he realized that the exhaustion was deeper than just a matter of sleep. He felt like he'd aged a thousand years in the span of one hour. Perhaps near-death experiences could do that to somebody. He didn't know, he'd never had a near-death experience before. Who knew, perhaps there would be more.

It was the worst year so far, after all.

**MARCH 1976**

* * *

He caught her as she was leaving the girls' bathroom on the third floor outside the Charms classroom. It was late afternoon and classes were done, so there weren't that many students around. Which was perfect for James, because he didn't want to make a scene.

He took a deep, resolute breath as he tapped on Ronnie Elliott's shoulder.

She whirled around, her dark hair flying out behind her. The moment she saw him, she crossed her arms defensively and scowled. "What do you want, James."

James looked her dead in the eye, no trace of joviality on his face. "I'm sorry."

"It's too late."

"I know."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "So what do you want, then?"

"I just want to say I'm sorry," James said, and he meant it. "I treated you like crap all year. And you deserved better than that."

Ronnie lifted her chin defiantly. "You did, and I do. But I didn't need you to tell me that."

"Yeah," James conceded.

Ronnie pursed her lips and turned away. "Whatever, Potter. You're a git."

"Yeah."

She didn't say another word before she started walking away from him. He didn't think he'd be able to coax her back. He wasn't sure he even wanted to. So much had changed in the last month that he couldn't even consider his life going back to the way it was. Nothing was going to go back to the way things were. It had taken James maybe a couple days to come around and take his best friend back in, because this was Sirius, stupid, rash, arrogant Sirius, and of course James would take him back. There was never a doubt about it. But Remus and Sirius hadn't exchanged a single word in a month, the cracks between them so deeply fractured that James couldn't begin to fathom how Sirius was going to fix them. James didn't think Sirius knew either. He still spent hours every night in detention with Dumbledore, doing god knows what, returning back to the dormitories long after Remus and Peter and Adam had fallen asleep, looking utterly spent. Remus was broken too, but he didn't have detention to keep him occupied. No, instead, he would either hole up in the library or draw the curtains of his four-poster bed and retreat in there for hours and hours. Even Peter had lost some of his appetite, sitting and staring glumly at his food during meals because it was just James and Peter these days.

So, James let her go. And along with it, any fleeting hope that this would be even just an average year, let alone the best year so far.

**JUNE 1976**

* * *

In some ways, it was a good year. Remus and Sirius were finally talking again, Peter had his appetite back, and James had grown more than he'd wagered. They were done with O.W.L.s, thank god, finally. How they'd managed to pull through after all that had gone down was beyond James. But in those last few months of school, he'd found the spark of motivation to try, actually, really try, rather the coast through his studies as he normally did. He had changed, after all.

He didn't claim to be perfect, though. He didn't need to hex Snape after the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, in front of the whole school, but he did. He also knew, however, that it was more than just a bully's sadistic powerplay over a helpless subject, as Lily Evans thought. There was history there, pent-up rage at Snape's idiotic ploy that had ruined his friends' lives and could have destroyed them, and so much bad blood.

A whole, crappy year's worth.


	7. Summer 1977: Knockturn Alley

**SUMMER 1977 (same day)**

* * *

Marlene and James chatted about Quidditch the whole way, talking about strategies for the coming year, who they needed to replace on the team, and what they'd read up on during the summer to try out at the first practice. Lily walked behind them the entire time, quiet. It used to annoy her that Marlene and James got along so well, despite how often Marlene professed her dislike for the boy. But she understood now that Marlene and James were family, having been at each other first birthdays, spent summers as each other's houses. Marlene didn't hate James. Not _really_, anyway. At the least it had lessened over the years, improving from the era of her throwing pumpkin juice in his face in first-year and whacking him with her Quidditch gear in fourth-year, to now simply resorting to rolling her eyes and making dry remarks anytime he said something particularly infuriating.

James kept glancing back at her, Lily wasn't sure why, but she didn't acknowledge it, rummaging instead for the book she'd been reading the last few weeks that Remus had lent to her for the summer. She may be going along with Marlene's plan, her own curiosity about the Death Eaters' meeting getting the better of her, but that did not mean she was willingly trying to spend time with James and Sirius. She frowned to herself, realizing she'd left her book on top of her dresser that morning.

But she didn't have to entertain herself for long. They found Sirius and Andromeda not much later leaving a small pub at the east end of Diagon Alley, just a few blocks from the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Sirius's face was more radiant than Lily had ever seen it, and he looked almost more handsome, if that were possible, when he didn't have that characteristic smirk on his face. Beside him was a beautiful, tall woman who couldn't have been much older than 24. She had the same patrician features as Sirius: the same grey eyes, Roman nose, and shapely upper lip. Her hair, however, was a deep chestnut color while Sirius's was coal black, and while Sirius's eyebrows were thick and straight, the woman's were thin and arched, making her look less brooding than him but somehow more intimidating. Lily suddenly felt drab and clumsy in her jeans and big hair and plain T-shirt, watching the woman walk gracefully like she was stepping on clouds, her shoulders thrown back proudly. She hated how being around the Blacks always made her feel so lackluster.

Marlene and James were not similarly intimidated, both of them waving at Sirius and the woman to catch their attention.

"Wotcher," Sirius said in surprise as the trio approached close enough. "What's going on?"

Andromeda's brow furrowed immediately. "Is Nymphadora OK?"

Lily had forgotten for a second that Nymphadora was Andromeda's daughter and marveled at how a strange, clumsy, blue-haired child could have been birthed by such a formidable and elegant woman. It made Amdromeda a little less intimidating.

James raised up his hand to reassure Andromeda. "She's fine! She's with Remus, they're reading about magic carpets."

"You left her with Remus," Andromeda said flatly, not sounding too happy about it. James didn't seem to have picked up on her disapproval as he hummed in confirmation.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked warily, eyeing his friend.

"The Rosiers are here," James said dropping his voice. "Marlene saw them go into Knockturn Alley earlier. We wanted to come warn you."

Andromeda's and Sirius's faces paled.

"The Rosiers?" Andromeda repeated faintly.

"It's true," Marlene said from James's right. "Also hello, I'm Marlene. McKinnon."

Marlene stuck out her hand under Andromeda's face, who blinked in surprise before she shook it, eyeing Marlene warily. "Andromeda Tonks."

"Sirius's cousin," Marlene nodded sagely.

"Er, yes."

"What are the Rosiers doing here?" Sirius insisted.

"Dunno, mate, but we're going to go find out," James said. He turned to Andromeda. "Want to come?"

But Andromeda was shaking her head before he had even finished his sentence, her expression grim. "I have to take Nymphadora home. I can't … we can't be seen here, I can't run into Argona or Hedley. And neither can you."

She was looking pointedly at Sirius now, but he shrugged her concern away nonchalantly. "I'll be fine. They haven't seen me in ages, they won't recognize me."

"They're your cousins too."

"Hardly, they're from _your _mum's side of the family."

"They know who you are, Sirius—"

"—I'll be careful."

Andromeda pursed her lips, scrutinizing Sirius. "Don't go sneaking around Knockturn Alley, no good can come from that. It's dangerous."

Lily remembered suddenly from the way Andromeda was staring Sirius down that Adromeda had been a prefect during Lily's first year. The intimidating returned in full force.

But Sirius just grinned at her. "Come now, Andy, do I strike you as somebody who dallies with danger?"

The corners of Andromeda's mouth turned up reluctantly. "Hm. Well keep your eyes peeled. You may not be of interest to the Rosiers, but if Argona and Hedley are here you can bet they brought some of the cousins along. Just … be careful, alright?"

"Always," Sirius said solemnly.

Andromeda sighed like she didn't believe him but couldn't think of anything else to say, patting her side to make sure her wand was in her pocket. "I better be off. Nymphadora and I should go home before … well. It's probably safest if we leave now."

She turned to Sirius, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "We will see you again soon. Do write."

"Every week," Sirius said, bestowing her with a rare, genuine smile.

Andromeda turned to James and said dryly, "Thanks for looking after Nymphadora."

"No problem," said James cheerfully, still unaware of her disapproval. Andromeda shook her head in exasperation, nodding sharply at Marlene and Lily. They nodded hastily back as she walked away like she was gliding on ice, her brown locks fluttering behind her tastefully.

Lily winced again and tugged at her own unruly hair as if to confirm that hers were indeed not fluttering elegantly in any manner whatsoever.

Looking back, she had to admit it all started either with her being named Head Girl, or that one conversation the four of them overheard in Knockturn Alley a week before school started. Spending time in each other's company as Heads is one way to force two people to get along. But really, what happened in Knockturn Alley was equally unifying—a mystery, danger, and a pact of secrecy had ways of bringing people closer.

Hindsight may be illuminating, but at that moment as the four of them slunk warily down the path that led from Diagon Alley to Knockturn Alley, Lily was convinced this was a bad idea, that she should really just leave, and that no good could come of this, as Andromeda had warned them.

"Maybe we ought to head back," Lily whispered loudly. Marlene was walking in front of her, James and Sirius following closely behind.

"That's a grand idea, Evans, maybe _you_ should do that," said Sirius immediately from behind her.

"Oh hush, Lily's just fussing, she's dying to find out as much as you are," Marlene said over her shoulder, drowning out the reproachful tutting from James.

"Well if she's too chicken…"

"Shove it, Black," Lily said dryly. She wasn't chicken, she was a damn Gryffindor. She also didn't think that meant she couldn't be careful. She sighed heavily to herself as they walked down cobbled steps, through the stone archway marking the entrance to Knockturn Alley. It was too late anyway, there was no turning back.

The temperature seemed to drop as they stumbled onto the footpath, even while there was no reason to think that was true. It was quieter than Diagon Alley, people moving more quickly but with less noise as if nobody wanted to stay there longer than they had to. Lily felt her skin crawl, her instincts alerting her to danger even while there was none in sight. Even Sirius and James had been silenced, both of them looking about warily, their hands stuffed in their pockets. Marlene bravely led the way, not saying a word until they made it another block or two where the road split.

She paused, looking about her carefully. "I'm not sure where they are …"

"Borgin and Burkes," Sirius said immediately, his voice low.

"How do you know?" Lily asked, raising her eyebrow.

Sirius shot her a withering look. "Obviously because my family is a murderous pack of dark witches and wizards."

"No need to get snippy with me Black, I was just asking. I have a right to know how you're familiar with _Knockturn fucking Alley_—"

"—What, Evans, you going to give me detention?"

"Shut _up_, both of you," James said, gritting his teeth. They did, Lily more so out of surprise. He huffed, rubbing his forehead, and then turned to Sirius before she could retort. "Are you sure you know?"

"Trust me," Sirius said, his face grim. "I know. Follow me."

He walked past Marlene, beckoning them toward the road that veered right. Lily stepped up closer to Marlene, frowning.

"He's so shady, I swear."

Marlene snorted in agreement but said nothing more.

They walked another couple of minutes, avoiding staring at some of the people that were hovering outside shops, heads bowed, sharp eyes following their progress. Lily saw a man bleeding from his arm and into his cloak, wincing as he hissed at her when she walked by. The stores they walked by were equally as strange as the people—Noggin and Bounce that had shrunken heads hanging along its front window, The Coffin House, which Lily couldn't even see into because it was shrouded entirely in darkness, The White Wyvern, which seemed to be some sort of pub but the moment the door opened Lily heard a wail that made her shiver to her bone. She ducked her head and continued on, hunching her shoulders.

She glanced back at James, who was walking a few feet behind her. Even he looked a little pale, his eyes shifting warily from one side to another, brow furrowed. He glanced her away, catching her eye, and she quickly turned back ahead.

"Oof!"

Marlene had bumped into Sirius, who had stopped abruptly, and Lily almost ran into her, catching herself as her heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in momentum.

"What? What is it?" Lily asked, frazzled.

"It's there," Sirius said, pointing ahead at a small grey shop with a bay window. It was dimly lit, yet they could see movement inside, shadowy figures moving back and forth. They were too far to tell who it was.

"We need to get closer," Marlene said.

"Alley," James responded, jerking his head. There was indeed an alley burrowing between Borgin and Burke and the empty storefront next to it.

"Well what's more suspicious than the four of us lurking in some alley."

"It's the only option, we can't be seen!"

The four of them looked at each other briefly in a moment of tacit agreement, and then began to creep toward the alley. Lily's heart was pounding harder the closer they got, the muffled sounds from inside the store also getting louder. James entered the alley first, looking about him quickly to make sure they were not drawing too much attention before he disappeared from view. Sirius followed, then Lily, then Marlene. The alley was certainly not used regularly, trash strewn across the ground that they avoided stepping on, trying not to make any noise. They stopped under a small window, its glass propped open slightly, through which the voices carried through, fluctuating in and out of clarity. They crouched down amid the trash and listened.

"… already behind schedule. Where are we on that, Hedley?" a female voice, deep and steady, carried through the open window.

"It's progressing. We have people willing to take the lead on that. Malfoy has agreed, for one," said a man, presumably Hedley Rosier.

"About time. He's a good man, he'll get the job done." That was Dolohov. Lily didn't know for sure, but they couldn't risk peering through the window, unable to tell how close the occupants of the room were or where they were facing. Instead, Lily glanced at Marlene to her left and as if Marlene had read her mind, she nodded in confirmation, lips pursed.

"He's going to take care of the entire mission, or just what we need to do at Hogwarts?" the deep female voice asked. Lily guessed that was Argona Rosier.

"Just Hogwarts, my dear." Hedley Rosier said.

"We must be careful about this," said Dolohov, "If Dumbledore catches a whiff of what's going on …"

"He won't," said a different voice, a soft voice. "My contact there is careful and has been carefully instructed."

"That's all fine, but your contact can't get too close to Dumbledore," Argona Rosier said impatiently.

"I am aware," said the soft voice. "

"And Minchum? The Minister?" Hedley Rosier asked. "Who's keeping an eye on him?"

"I am running interference on that end too. He won't find out."

"How do you plan to do that, eh? You don't exactly work in his office," Dolohov interrupted.

"I work close enough," was the reply.

Lily turned to look at Marlene, who looked equally shocked. They had a man at Hogwarts and a man in the Ministry, somebody who was keeping an eye on Dumbledore and one on the Mister for Magic, someone who meant to keep his identity a secret and had taken sufficient precautions to make sure his face remained hidden when he met the Death Eaters in Borgin and Burkes. One who was in consistent communication with Dolohov, Lestrange, and—

"—the Dark Lord isn't a patient man, so you better be right."

There was a clang from beside them that made Lily's heart practically stop from terror. It was Sirius, his face white, who seemed to be backing away and had accidentally slammed his foot into a metal bucket the had been lying in the trash nearby. Lily wondered wildly if her face was as drained of color as her comrades' as they snapped around to look at Sirius, frozen.

"Did you hear that?" the same voice demanded. It belonged to a woman, high-pitched and screechy. "Who's there?"

James was the first to react, his voice hoarse and urgent. "We got to go. _Now_."

"It's probably a cat, Lestrange."

Lily was the first to move, pulling out her wand and casting a wordless _muffliato_ to hide the noise they made as the inched away from the window, trying to be careful not to be seen. Marlene, who was at the end of the line closest to the entrance of the alleyway, began slowly creeping toward the sidewalk, her head down and out of sight from the window. She rounded the corner and Lily followed, not daring to look up, her heart pounding in her ears. James and Sirius came next, not far behind, squeezing out the alley between Borgin and Burkes and the run-down empty storefront that used to be a potions shop.

"Well? Where's your mystery eavesdropper? Told you it was the cat."

It was Dolohov whose voice carried from the entrance of Borgin and Burke to where the four of them were. His voice made Lily stop in her tracks suddenly, frozen. She was painfully aware of how much her hands were shaking as images of the newspaper article she'd read earlier today on the murder of Rebecca Stokely flashed in front of her. Her body had been found in her bathtub, a mark of a skeleton and snake seared into the flesh of her forehead. The article said she had been tortured before she was killed.

A pair of hands were on her back, gently applying pressure. A voice near her ear whispered, "Evans, we have to move. Come on."

It was like her joints had been locked together with magic.

"_Evans_."

Lily stumbled forward, giving in to the pressure on her back, and suddenly her feet seemed to remember what they were good for as she was jolted out of her trance.

They walked the rest of the way quickly, keeping their heads down, Marlene weaving through the questionable crowd of people around them as she made toward Diagon Alley. Lily didn't dare look behind her to see if they were being followed—they were conspicuous enough in their muggle clothes without her looking over her shoulder suspiciously. She couldn't even start to process everything she'd heard until they all spilled onto the cobbled sidewalks of Diagon Alley, whispering silent prayers the whole way. The warm, chaotic chatter of Diagon Alley was a welcoming assault on Lily's ears after the eerie silence and low whispers of Knockturn Alley.

Marlene let out a long breath as if she'd been holding it this whole time. "Fuck."

"That was close," James said, looking over his shoulder. "Damn it, Sirius."

"What _happened_?" Lily demanded suddenly, whirling on Sirius, who was leaning against a wall, his eyes closed.

"Nothing," Sirius said lightly as James gave him a cursory glance. "Tripped."

"You tripped," Lily repeated coldly. "Great. Well. Next time you decide to sneak around trying to eavesdrop on Death Eaters maybe try to maintain your balance."

"Shove it, Evans," Sirius said coolly, "You're the one who got cold feet in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Great timing."

Lily's cheeks heated up, and she opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by Marlene.

"Rosiers, Dolohov, and the Lestranges," Marlene breathed. "Cor, that must have been an important meeting."

"And unknown Ministry man," James added darkly. "I wish we'd seen his face."

"What were they talking about back there?" Marlene wondered aloud. "What are they planning? What does it have to do with Dumbledore?"

"They're recruiting," said Lily, still glaring at Sirius.

"How do you know?"

"They said they're trying to strengthen their numbers," Lily said. "And they're afraid of Dumbledore, which means they're probably trying to do something at Hogwarts. What else could they want there?"

"She's right," Sirius piped up, breaking his brooding spell of silence.

"How do _you_ know?" Marlene turned to Sirius.

Sirius was staring at the ground, looking troubled. "I … I remember Rosier saying something about it before I left … he was over at mum and dad's place last summer."

"Hogwarts would be the best place for them to find recruits," James said thoughtfully.

"Hold on, they said they have a contact in Hogwarts. Do you think it's a professor?" Marlene said, eyebrows furrowed as she tried to recall what had been said.

"I don't think it's a professor," Lily said heavily. "I think it's a student. If it were a professor, they wouldn't be relying so much on the Ministry guy to keep an eye on Dumbledore."

"Probably a Slytherin," Marlene snorted. "Gits."

Sirius and James had checked out of the conversation, Sirius staring at James, eyes wide, and James peering back at his friend with mild concern.

"You don't think …?"

"I dunno," Sirius said, face pale.

"What?" Lily blurted.

"Nothing," James said quickly, suddenly cheerful.

Lily narrowed her eyes suspiciously at them. "You two have been acting funny ever since Sirius freaked out in Knockturn Alley. What in the world is going on?"

"Nothing," Sirius said sharply to her. "I _told _you, I tripped."

"I don't believe you," Lily said critically, crossing her arms.

"You don't have to," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You almost got us caught," Lily snapped.

"Lily," Marlene muttered, "Drop it."

But Sirius snorted derisively, stuffing his hands in his pockets and pushing himself off the wall. "Whatever, Evans. We got out of there and everything's fine, so bugger off. Anyway, I have other things to do. It was fun hanging with you ladies."

James winced as Sirius stalked off without a backward glance, shoulders hunched. Lily pursed her lips as she watched him go. She and Sirius Black had never gotten along well—they rubbed each other the wrong way. While James had made it clear he was smitten by her since fourth year, Sirius made it clear that he shared none of his friend's admiration or liking for her. Sirius was always disdainful of Lily's rule-abiding and Lily was severely unimpressed with his bravado. They hardly ever spoke, but when they did, it was usually not pleasant.

"Ah, I better go too, Moony and Wormtail are probably getting angsty," James said apologetically. "I'll see you all. Don't hang around here much longer though, looks suspicious."

"Not a word to anybody," Marlene instructed him sternly. "Don't want the 'contact' to get a whiff that we know what's going on."

James nodded, then gave a little salute with his finger. "Need me to walk you anywhere?"

"We're fine," Lily said grumpily, arms still crossed. James looked at her for a brief second longer than needed, frowning. But he let it go with a shrug. Lily raised her eyebrow and said nothing. They may have spent the day together, but she and James Potter were not friends. She still hated his guts and was waiting for the moment he'd snap back into his pompous, obnoxious self and surprise her with some outrageous proposal or another. She didn't trust him one bit.

"Alright," James said, and Lily relaxed as he stepped away with a last lingering glance. "See you on the train, then."

"Ta," Marlene said.

He didn't hang around, turning away and walking briskly in the direction Sirius went as he tried to catch up with his friend. Lily watched him disappear into the crowd and once he was out of sight, she turned to Marlene, whose stare she could feel burning into the side of her head.

"What?"

"Nothing," Marlene shrugged. "Let's go."

They began walking the opposite direction from where James and Sirius had, making their way to the Leaky Cauldron and back to London. They didn't exchange a word, each turning the events of the past hour over in their mind. It was sobering to realize that even Hogwarts wasn't protected from the dark forces out in the world, that Tom Riddle and his army of witches and wizards were creeping past the walls of their castles. It infuriated Lily that they were trying to recruit children into their ranks—children, students still in Hogwarts, who didn't know any better, who would blindly be swept up by the tempting politics of somebody like Tom Riddle who could promise them power beyond what they could imagine in their wildest dreams. It would be so easy to corrupt the minds of Hogwarts students who couldn't even begin to understand, secure within the comforting confines of the castle as they were, the death and destruction and devastation that Tom Riddle was leaving in his wake.

And it terrified her that her tormentors could be walking the halls of Hogwarts, sitting beside her in class, invading her home. Hogwarts did not feel safe anymore.

"You came down a little strong on Sirius," Marlene commented suddenly, jarring Lily out of her dark musings.

"He almost got us caught," Lily huffed defensively. "Besides, he knows something, he and Potter, and they won't tell us. They're hiding it."

Marlene chewed her lip and sighed. "They're not … hiding anything."

Lily looked at her critically. "You know, don't know. You know why Black freaked out."

"I think so," Marlene said, looking troubled. They stepped past the brick wall entrance to Diagon Alley and trudged into the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well, what is it?" Lily asked as they slid past clusters of witches and wizards in the pub. Marlene didn't answer, waiting until they were shoulder to shoulder again before she ducked her head and lowered her voice.

"You know that woman who was speaking, not Rosier but the other one?" Marlene asked.

"The one who spooked Black."

"Yeah," Marlene said, holding open the door to the Leaky. Lily stepped out onto the London sidewalk and Marlene followed her into the muggle world. She sighed. "That was Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Okay," Lily said, not sure what she was supposed to take away from this information. "And Black is scared of this woman … why?"

"Lily," Marlene said heavily, "Bellatrix Lestrange used to be Bellatrix Black. That wasn't just some random Death Eater, that was Andromeda Tonks's sister. Sirius's cousin."

"Oh," Lily said. She knew Black wasn't on the best terms with his family. "Erm. They're estranged, aren't then? He was just taken by surprise?"

"It's more than that," Marlene said. "… It's not just Bellatrix Lestrange that consorts with Riddle and his gang, the whole Black family is like that. The lot of them are blood-obsessed monsters. Sirius didn't just cut ties with his family. He ran away."

Lily frowned. "So there's … bad blood."

"Bellatrix Lestrange is … the worst of them. I dunno what Sirius's childhood was like, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's been bullied by her as a kid … or worse."

"Oh," Lily said softly. It had never ever occurred to her that Sirius Black could've had a traumatic past. She knew he had a bumpy childhood, the whole school did: They'd all been in the Great Hall to hear the torrents of howlers he'd received over the years at breakfast from his mum. She'd noticed how much more often he got into brawls with the Slytherins after fifth year, and while she disapproved of James Potter and Sirius Black picking fights, she wasn't completely bereft of house loyalty—she knew that the Slytherins just as often provoked them, and she had guessed they had taken it up a notch after Sirius ran away from home. But she always imagined he grew up in comfort and luxury, with doting parents who politically disagreed with him but loved him nonetheless. She thought Sirius running away had just been another one of his wild adventures. Child abuse was not something she'd considered.

It was easier when James was just a stupid jock who was full of himself, and Sirius was a handsome prick with too much money, and Lily could just despise them for being that way. But now she was discovering new things about the Marauders, things that humanized them, things that made them harder to hate.

And she didn't particularly like it.


	8. September 1977: Marlene is Not a Martyr

**NOVEMBER 1973**

* * *

_"Stupid blithering fool..." _

_The girl—Marlene McKinnon, Lily identified—was stomping quite distractedly in Lily's vicinity and muttering angrily to herself. She slammed her bag onto the floor, causing Lily to startle and tear a page of her book by accident. Without a word, Lily pulled out her wand and tapped the offended piece of paper. _

_"... great big prat. Thinks he's such a hotshot. Stupid boy. I'll show him, by Merlin's most provocative—" _

_"—thongs?" Lily suggested amusedly, still bending over her Herbology book. The stomping and fidgeting stopped for a minute, and then the girl snorted. _

_"I suppose that would do," the girl said. Lily looked up to find that she was grinning at her. _

_She did not know Marlene very well, despite the fact that they shared a dormitory, and her bed happened to be right next to Lily's. She knew that McKinnon was an old pureblooded family, that she and Katrina Khan were best mates, that she was loud and impertinent and funny, and that she was on the Quidditch team. But other than that, Lily knew next to nil—Marlene spent much of her time on the pitch and Lily spent much of hers in the library. Besides, Mary had never shown an interest in McKinnon, and Lily had never felt a need to show an interest in anybody but Mary. _

_Marlene didn't know Lily much at all either. Lily was quiet, and private, and hovered behind Mary MacDonald most of the time, and Marlene really didn't like Mary, who was much too chatty for Marlene's tastes. Lily was smart though, first in many of their classes and the smartest girl in Gryffindor, even Kat had to concede that, and Kat rarely conceded that anybody's brilliance could surpass her own. Marlene and Kat had hit it off immediately, both of them having quick wits and sharp tongues and a penchant for athletics, even though Kat never played herself._

_Marlene had calmed down substantially. She dumped her book bag unceremoniously onto her bed and was now tugging her heavy combat boots off. She looked at Lily, who was quietly pouring over her textbook while nestled amid her blankets, from the corner of her eye. _

_"Sorry for bothering you." _

_"That's alright." _

_"It's Potter's fault," Marlene said balefully, tossing her boots to the side and throwing herself onto her bed dramatically, "He's just so ..." _

_"Crude," Lily finished. "Arrogant. Infuriating."_

_Marlene propped herself up onto her elbows and grinned at Lily. "I forgot you had a fairly decent reason to hate his guts as well." _

_Lily turned faintly pink at the reference to the recent confrontations between her and Potter which had the entire school smirking at her. She honestly did not appreciate any such rumors, especially not with her and Potter being used in the same sentence together, and she felt her mood drop a bit at Marlene's words. _

_"Yeah well," Lily muttered bitterly. She picked up her quill and forcefully underlined a sentence in the book, accidentally poking a hole in the page. _

_Marlene must have picked up on Lily's tone, because she immediately dropped the grin. "At least you don't have to deal with him outside of Hogwarts." _

_Lily identified this as an attempt to make her feel better and raised an inquiring eyebrow politely, although she had no interest in delving into the subject of Potter's personal life any further. _

_"I see him almost every summer," Marlene said with a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. "Known him since we were really small." _

_"How's that?" _

_Marlene paused here, tugging a stray curl in contemplation, "Let's see ... his great-grandmother and my grandfather's aunt twice removed—I can't for the life of me remember—were sisters by marriage. Also, mum's been friendly with Mrs. Potter's sister since their Hogwarts days." _

_"Oh," said Lily, not able to think of any better response. _

"_We're part of The Gentlepeople of East England and all that nonsense," Marlene explained. "Our families go back centuries. They're all related in some way through blood or marriage, and they've been at it for years." _

_Lily felt curious in spite of herself. She didn't know much about wizarding families, especially the pureblood ones everybody seemed to treat like royalty. The only pureblood family she had heard of popped into her mind. "Are the Blacks a part of it too?" _

_Marlene shuddered. "Dear god no ... Imagine Walburga Black having Christmas dinner at the Potter Villa—Christ, that would be a nightmare. They aren't very liked—respected, of course—but I think their views are much too extreme for the East England lot. They have their own circles, with the Malfoys and the Crabbes and all. The Sacred Twenty-Eight. Though we do convene for certain occasions, entirely for propriety's sake."_

_"Are all of them in Slytherin?"_

_"Most of them. You have an oddball here and there, like Sirius Black. Which is why I hardly saw much of him growing up like I saw James. He was over this one time ... I don't remember much though, we were six. Sirius was mostly sulking and Mrs. Black hardly stayed long anyway."_

_A sudden image of a small Sirius pouting in the corner of the room in shiny dress robes made Lily chuckle. "You do have the unluckier end of the stick, I suppose." _

_"Yes, so thank your stars," Marlene smiled. Lily smiled back, and she felt a sudden kinship toward this girl who shared a mutual hatred for a common nemesis. It was more that Mary had offered her—Mary liked James Potter because he was popular, and funny, and charming, all things Mary was as well—and it was oddly comforting to know that Lily's disdain wasn't irrational or singularly abnormal._

**SEPTEMBER 1, 1977**

* * *

"Bugger, I really thought the course load would be lighter this year," Marlene lamented, throwing herself down onto the seat and flexing her fingers with a grimace.

"N.E.W.T.s," Lily said darkly.

Kat had already settled in, having arrived on the Hogwarts Express first and snagged a compartment for the three of them. Her long legs were stretched out across the seat and she turned a page of her book, twirling her thick black hair around her finger lazily. "Should've said something, dad could've gotten your books too."

Kat's father owned a bookstore and regularly traveled across the world in search of rare texts hidden away in different countries, especially in Pakistan from where her parents hailed and the larger South Asian subcontinent. Being familiar with the book market also meant he knew where the cheapest knock-off and second-hand books could be found, meaning Kat rarely had to shell out money to buy her Hogwarts textbooks.

"The trip to Diagon Alley was worth it," Marlene replied, stretching and yawning.

Kat raised an eyebrow and looked from Lily to Marlene. "You mean because you got to snoop?"

"Yep."

"Jealous."

"You don't know who the Ministry man could be, do you?" Lily asked Kat, fidgeting with the sleeves of her school shirt.

Kat shrugged. "No. Karima doesn't talk about her work, like at all. But I also didn't want to ask—I'm not sure how much she'd keep it a secret."

"She's a cursebreaker, that's literally her whole job," Marlene pointed out.

"Well maybe we'll luck out at he'll show up at Hogwarts," Lily said with a shrug. She chewed on her lips, her brows furrowed, and then looked at the other two girls. "Bugger. We need to find out who the student is."

"Aren't you supposed to discourage snooping?" Marlene asked with a snort.

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's for a good cause."

"Me snooping around with Garrett last year was also for a good cause," Marlene said lazily. "But I still got detention. From you."

Lily grinned at her. "You got detention for getting _caught_. Kat's never gotten detention."

"She definitely has," Marlene laughed, "You know she snoops around with the Ravenclaw lowerclassmen all the time. She's gotten caught _at least_ twice."

"It's pedophilic," Lily grumbled.

Kat stuck her nose up in the air. "You're just jealous that I have more game."

"Lily has the most game here," Marlene insisted, grinning. "She's never gotten detention for frolicking in broom closets, and she was snogging that Hufflepuff boy _all_ of last year."

"Hoe," Marlene added helpfully.

Lily smirked as she got to her feet, patting her skirt to make sure her wand was there. "Perks of being a prefect. Who's going to check the broom closets when you're too busy in one instead?"

"Where're you going?"

"Prefect meeting," Lily replied. "I'll be a while, don't wait up."

Marlene and Kat hummed in response. Lily squared her shoulders like she was preparing for battle and marched resolutely out the compartment door. Marlene watched her go and then turned to Kat, observing her carefully, warily. Her face was paler, the bags under her eyes more prominent. Marlene clenched and unclenched her fists as she tried to speak.

"How are … how are you?"

Kat finally raised her gaze to meet Marlene's, her dark eyes impenetrable. Her lips were set in a line, and she hunched her shoulders ever so slightly. "Fine."

"Okay," Marlene agreed, not wanting to push.

There was silence as rain beat down on the windows, the sunlight filtering through the grey clouds making the water drops sparkle. Kat looked out the window for a long while, sitting perfectly still.

"Mum hasn't come back," she said finally. She didn't look at Marlene, and Marlene winced but didn't say anything. "I don't know when she is, if she is. I don't even know where she went. She just … left. It's just me, dad, and Karima now."

Marlene couldn't find the right words to say, didn't know if there were any words to say, so she didn't say anything. Sitting there in silence was what Kat needed, because Kat was done talking.

Kat hardly spoke about it at all, her brother's death that summer. Danish had died suddenly, without warning, apparently in an accident outside a pub. He'd been shot three times in the head, and they found his wand broken in two a few feet away from his outstretched hand. He had just turned 18. Kat's mother had left a week later, simply packing her bags and walking out. She said she needed space and time, that she couldn't handle being there. Kat had taken care of the funeral. Lily and Marlene had reached out to her repeatedly, asking if she needed help. But Kat had persistently turned them down, so all they could do was sit around and wait.

Kat was looking at Marlene now, who started when she realized she had spaced out. "And you? How are you?"

Marlene shrugged. "Same old."

"Have you spoken to Garrett?"

"Garrett who?"

Kat gave her a funny look, unsure why Marlene was pretending she didn't know Kat was talking about her ex-boyfriend of four years. "Garrett MacMillan."

Marlene squared her shoulders, feeling her stomach lurch a little at the thought of him. "No."

"Okay," Kat said quietly. She picked up her book and started reading again.

Marlene sighed, folding her hands over her midriff. Neither of them were very good at talking about how they were doing. That was Lily, the emotionally well-adjusted one. The mature one. The one who knew how to express herself while Kat and Marlene simply muttered and hedged and made jokes and pretended everything was alright when really, nothing was. Lily provided the much-needed reality check, her willingness to open up and her frankness a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stifling co-existence.

Other times, it was incredibly annoying and made Marlene feel inadequate.

They sat like that for a good half hour, Kat reading in silence and Marlene staring out the window, kicking her seat, feeling more and more restless. Marlene was terribly glad when they were finally interrupted by Lily, who threw open the compartment doors with a bang, startling them both. Marlene looked, up relieved.

"Lils," she said gratefully.

But Lily did not return the positivity, instead growling and sitting down forcefully. "I hate Potter. Hate him. Annoying, arrogant, berk."

A moment later, James Potter popped his head around the corner of the door.

"Wotcher, ladies. You know I can hear you, Evans."

Lily threw him a dirty look. He glanced with exasperation at Lily before his eyes found Marlene.

"Mar. Ready for the Quidditch meeting?"

Marlene was shaking her head but got to her feet immediately, betraying her sense of relief at being given something to do. "We haven't even reached Hogwarts yet."

James shrugged cheerfully. "I watched Sirius fly this summer. Abysmal. You all clearly need an early start if we're going to win."

"Are you going to be this insufferable all year?"

James winked. "Have something better to do?"

Marlene looked from Lily's brooding face to Kat's melancholy one and shook her head vigorously. "Nope. I'm coming."

If Lily was going to pout and Kat was going to stew, she wanted nothing to do with it. Marlene was a good friend. But she wasn't a fucking martyr.

**JULY 6, 1976**

* * *

"_McKinnon, are you avoiding me?"_

_Marlene stiffened when she heard the voice, but she didn't turn to acknowledge it. Instead, she continued staring into the dark expanse above her, twinkling with stars that only showed themselves because there wasn't another house for miles around. She clutched the railings of her balcony harder, the rings on her fingers digging into her flesh. Somebody joined her, leaning against the rails next to her, arms crossed._

"_Yeah, I suppose you can say that I am," Marlene replied humorlessly. She finally turned to look at James, who was regarding her carefully, with amusement. Somehow this pissed her off even more._

"_What?" She snapped._

_He raised his hands in surrender._

"_I didn't spike your punch, honest to God—"_

"—_I don't care who spike my bloody punch!" Marlene said in exasperation, "Fuck the punch! There's more to life than who spiked whose bloody __punch__, you arrogant toerag!"_

_They stared at each other for a few seconds. The silence was interrupted only by the low moan of the summer breeze that washed over them, making the lace on Marlene's dress flutter. _

"_Arrogant toerag?" James parroted blankly. _

_Marlene put her fingers to her throbbing temples and turned away from him. "Leave me alone."_

"_Not a chance," James said, his voice dropping its gaiety. "I have a right to know why I'm being subjected to cold-shouldering and insults."_

"_You deserve much worse."_

"_I'll take your word for it," said James. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his expensive navy blue dress robes and gazed into the dark abyss as well. His voice sounded eerily guarded. "Incidentally, this doesn't have anything to do with Lily Evans does it?"_

"_What makes you think so?" Marlene asked challengingly, even though there was no denying it. She heard laughter carrying from two floors below as guests spilled out through the back door into the McKinnons' yard, eager to enjoy the lovely summer night._

_He raised an eyebrow at her. "Arrogant toerag?"_

"_Yes, well. You are."_

"_You never had a problem with it before," he pointed out. His smile was bitter._

"_Before you crossed the line?" Marlene said, still turned away from him. James paused for a few seconds, and then turned away as well, letting out a long sigh. _

"_Why did you do it?" Marlene asked eventually._

_James sighed again, "It wasn't anything I don't usually do, Mar, the only difference was how Sniv … Snape reacted to it."_

"_She was really upset, you know."_

"_Well I apologized."_

"_That's not enough," Marlene snapped. "She lost a friend that day."_

_James was looking steadily at her. "Here's the deal—I'm not sorry I picked a fight with Snape, yeah? He's foul and he's revolting and I hate him. And I can't ever forgive him for …" James's eyes flashed, "… never mind. But I am sorry if Evans was hurt, she doesn't deserve it. So, I apologized to her. If you're expecting me to apologize to Snape though, that's never going to happen."_

"_See? This—this is exactly why Lily hates you so much," Marlene said bitterly. "You don't even want to attempt to be the better person. Why can't you ever just walk away from him? Do you realize if you leave him alone he's not going to challenge you, seeing as he's so clearly outnumbered anyway?"_

"_You don't get it, do you," it was James's turn to snap. "He won't confront me, sure, he's too much of a coward. But he's sneaky as shit. He'll nose around and trail us and plot ways to get back at us. He's a git who worships the Dark Arts—I'm not going to stand around and wait for him to strike first. Whatever. I have no idea what Evans sees in him."_

"_I don't know James, I like Snape as much as the next person, which is admittedly not at all," Marlene said quietly, resting her chin on her palm, "But that's not the point. It isn't up to you to decide who Lily does or doesn't like. I've seen how he is around her, and he worships the ground she treads on. People are different around the people they … love. To us, he's a slimy backstabbing git, but to Lily, he's Sev—her friend."_

"_Friends don't call each other the m-word," James pointed out coldly._

"_You goaded him into it," Marlene retorted._

"_It would've happened anyway, McKinnon, you think that's not what he calls people when Evans isn't there? Don't try to pin the blame on me."_

"_Doesn't matter what could or couldn't have happened, only that it did. And you're involved and you pushed him to it. He makes Lily happy, and now you've managed to take that away from her. So don't blame me for hating you for it for a bit," Marlene said firmly. She pushed herself off the rail, squaring her shoulders, and turned to head back inside._

_James didn't look at her. When she reached the door, he spoke, "I don't blame you. It's what any of us would do."_

_Marlene hovered at the entrance, hand resting on the doorframe as her dress shimmered in the moonlight. With a slight flick of her head, she dropped her hand to her side and disappeared into the hall._

**SEPTEMBER 1, 1977**

* * *

"Why is Lily mad at you, again?"

James shrugged under Marlene's scrutinizing gaze, but he knew why. He exchanged a glance with Sirius, sitting across from him, and his expression soured. Marlene noticed, raising an eyebrow—it was hard not to notice given how tightly packed they all were in that little compartment.

"Evans is always mad at him," Salma Bazzi, a hijabi fifth-year girl with big eyes and long eyelashes said dismissively, still bent over the charts that James had sprawled across the seat. She squinted at them. "Say, you realize I can't hold off Epps that long, right? He's mad impatient, always gets the snitch within the first half hour."

"If Epps is still Slytherin's seeker," Adam Winchester pointed out. He turned to James, frowning. "Why am I here again? I told you I'm not playing this year."

James waved his comment away.

"Epps will be the seeker," Salma said confidently. "Damn good flyer, even if he's a bloody Slytherin. Potter, we can't hedge up points in this match. Wait until the Ravenclaw one, their seeker is easier to distract."

"James," Marlene said, leaning forward. "What did you do?"

"Ask her yourself," James snapped. He was mad at Lily too, but nobody seemed as bothered about that. They'd had a successful prefect's meeting, no arguments are undermining one another, or contradicting the other person. It went smoothly, and James should have known that meant something else was going to blow up in their face very soon.

That something else came in the shape and form of Severus Snape.

"Sev," Lily said in shock. She and James were in the corridor outside of James's compartment going over some last-minute logistical details for the next prefect meeting when the git appeared. James even had his hand on the doorknob of the compartment, two minutes and he'd have been safe inside, and Lily and Snivellus could've had their cozy little chat in peace and he, James, wouldn't have to give a flying fuck.

But no, Snape insisted on hovering a few feet away, beady eyes fixed on Lily, ignoring completely James's deathly stare. "Lily," Snape said softly, and then cleared his throat, "Can we talk?"

Lily pursed her lips, looking conflicted. She swallowed, her eyebrows dipping in the slightest, but her voice was firm. "I don't think so."

Snape took a step forward. "Please."

"She said no," James said sharply, making Snape snap his head around and fix James with a look of pure hatred. "Get lost."

"Stay out of it, Potter," Lily said stiffly, also turning to glare at James. James rolled his eyes with obvious exasperation and leaned against the door of his compartment, arms crossed.

Lily turned back to Snape, acutely aware of the hostility rolling off James in waves. She felt a pit in her stomach as her eyes met Snape's. "I don't want to talk to you."

Snape looked at her long and hard. "I have information for you about—"

"—Cor, don't you get the hint?" James huffed in exasperation. "She doesn't want to talk."

"This doesn't concern you, Potter," Snape said venomously. "I realize you have a difficult time wrapping your large head around that idea, but I suggest starting by keeping out of other people's business—"

"—you're one to talk about minding your own business," James laughed coldly. "Given how much you sneak around you slimy little—"

"—for good reason," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "Given the kinds of … _creatures_ you run around with."

James growled and immediately started forward as Snape's hand shot to his wand pocket.

"ENOUGH."

Both boys froze but continued glaring at each other with venom as Lily stepped in between them, hands raised. She looked flustered and furious.

"You," she said, whirling on James, "Shut up. Just shut _up_. Nobody asked you to butt in, nobody asked you anything. It is none. Of. Your. Business. Understand?"

James glared down at her but said nothing.

"And you," Lily said, turning to Snape and putting her hands on her hips. "I told you once, and I'll tell you again. I don't want to talk to you. Please leave."

Snape had left then with a lingering glance at Lily, slinking away back down the corridor. James had watched him go, heart pounding and hand itching to hex the boy, but he held back. The memories from fifth year were still fresh, of Snape in Dumbledore's office after he'd found out that Remus was a werewolf, the way he'd visibly recoil from Remus in the corridors or in class, the way he'd flinch if Remus ever spoke to him. The jab about Remus poked at wounds that were still too raw for James.

"Evans," James started stiffly.

"Fuck off, Potter," she hissed. "You're such a damn _child_. Oh my god, can't you just leave him alone?"

"He came for my friends, I wasn't going to stand by and take it," James snapped.

Lily laughed, but it was without humor. "Oh no, don't you dare paint yourself as the victim here. You're just as bad as he is, you can't seem to take no for an answer either. I told you it's not your business, why can't _you_ take the hint?"

"You're so damn self-centered sometimes," James retorted through grit teeth. "You think this is about _you_? Are you kidding me? Snape and I go way back and it has nothing to do with _you_."

"Nothing?" Lily asked, raising her eyebrow. "I doubt that. You've had it out for him because I liked him better than I ever liked you, and that bothers you."

"Whatever, Evans," James said, closing his mouth over the angry words that threatened to stumble out of his mouth. His clenched his fists to keep his rage at bay. He would never admit it, but she had a point.

"Whatever, Potter," Lily spat back. They had been arguing all the way down the corridor up to her compartment. With one last spiteful glance at him, she threw open the door and stormed in, slamming it shut behind her.

Marlene was looking at him carefully, trying to discern what had happened, but then she shrugged, as if to signal that she was going to let it go. "Okay. Let's talk game."

If James didn't want to talk, James didn't want to talk. Lily could handle this, they were always fighting anyway. Marlene was a good friend, but hell if she was going to martyr herself.

* * *

"I'm starving," Marlene moaned, laying her head down on the table momentarily for dramatic effect. She could hear Lily snorting beside her and she lifted her head again. As she did, she caught the eye of a handsome boy with curly wheatish hair sitting a few seats away on the Gryffindor table and she quickly looked away, her heart speeding up.

Lily gazed at her knowingly. "Still haven't talked to Garrett?"

"Nope," Marlene said cheerfully, signaling her intense desire to drop the topic of conversation. She hadn't spoken to him since they'd left for the summer, on the last day of fifth year. The day they'd broken up—the day she had broken up with him after four long years of being together. She thought after three months she'd be ready to see him again, but every time he caught her eye, she felt a little kick in her gut.

So instead, she groaned loudly to drown out her own painful feelings. "I'm _starving_."

"Dumbledore still has to give his speech," Lily said. She looked about her at the handful of aurors that were scattered along the walls, standing straight with their hands behind their backs as they surveyed the hall. "It'll be enlightening, I'm sure."

Marlene looked about her as well. "I thought they weren't going to have aurors stationed in Hogwarts."

Kat shrugged. "Karima said they might. There's been a lot of talk about it, Dumbledore isn't a fan of the idea though."

"Why not?" Marlene asked.

"Maybe he's caught on that there are infiltrators in the Ministry," Lily said. It wasn't just the conversation they'd overheard in Borgin and Burkes. There had been a few cases that had sprung up recently of Ministry workers being ousted as Voldemort supporters, or who had been involved in trials for muggle killings and had claimed they couldn't remember doing it. The defense of being under the imperius curse would bar any punishment, but it was notoriously hard to prove. It was clear that the Ministry was out of its depth.

Marlene raised her eyebrow. "If Dumbledore doesn't trust the Ministry, we're all a little bit screwed."

"You think our mystery man could one of the aurors?" Lily muttered, leaning forward so that only Kat and Marlene could hear. They both leaned forward as well.

"I dunno, but I don't trust them," Marlene said furtively.

The crowd quieted at the sound of a spoon clinking against glass from the professors' table at the front of the hall. Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, clearing her throat, and the hall fell silent. She beckoned with her hand and the gaggle of incoming first-year students shuffled forward, their collective nervousness reflected in the rolling thunder clouds that suddenly flooded the enchanted ceiling.

The sorting went without a hitch. The Marauders predictably chanted and cheered the loudest every time a student was sorted into Gryffindor, booing with fervor when someone was sent off to the Slytherin table. Lily noticed that James didn't partake, although he chuckled at Sirius's and Peter's dramatic antics along with Remus. Once the sorting was over, Dumbledore rose to his feet, grand and imposing and ominous as ever.

"Welcome back," he said, but his expression was more grim than welcoming.

Lily was right for the most part. The headmaster did not seem thrilled about the presence of Ministry aurors at Hogwarts, but he warned students all the same to stay out of trouble—the aurors were not here to fuck around. He spoke of unity, of tolerance, of the usual garbage that people in positions of authority are supposed to say to the masses, as if a rousing speech would be enough to eradicate hate and bigotry. As if the people who should be listening were even listening—Lily saw from the corner of her eyes that Avery and Mulciber and their crew were either whispering to each other, or staring up at the ceiling in boredom, or smirking. She caught Snape's eye, but only for a second because she turned away immediately, her heart skipping a beat. Snape had been listening, but his face was blank and impassive.

When Dumbledore was finished, the usual chatter erupted along with the food for the feast. Lily wasn't particularly hungry anymore, and neither was Kat, who nibbled on a celery but otherwise did not touch her plate. Marlene dove in voraciously, ignoring them both.

"Congratulations."

Lily turned around. It was Evie Nicholson, who'd left her seat on the Gryffindor table and was standing before Lily, her blond hair pulled out of her face and tied in a neat braid behind her. She was holding out her hand and smiling, but it seemed inexplicably strained.

"For making Head Girl," Evie clarified in response to Lily's confused expression.

"Oh," Lily said. She took the extended hand awkwardly. "Er. Thanks."

The strained smile grew a little bit. "Saw it coming from a mile away, of course. Good choice, on Dumbledore's part. It was bold, given the current political climate and all."

"What are you on about?" Marlene asked sharply from beside Lily, her voice muffled through the food in her mouth.

Evie shrugged, still smiling that strange smile. "Well I mean, Lily was always in the running I suppose, but you know, the school needed to see that someone … like you could be in a position of power who could. So I see why he chose you. The rest of us really didn't stand a chance at that point, but I imagine it'll be worth it. Representation matters."

Lily simply stared, speechless. "Er—right."

Evie didn't wait for Lily to finish, patting her shoulder patronizingly. "I think it's brave! I'm sure you'll do great."

Lily watched her go, feeling numb. Evie returned to her seat next to Mary, who was busy chatting to some of the lowerclassmen at the other end of the table. Lily turned back to her plate, even less hungry than before, her stomach churning.

"Bloody hell," Kat said, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline. "Jealous, much?"

Marlene was glaring down the table at Evie. "Bet you she wanted Head Girl. What a colossal bitch."

"Is that what people think?" Lily asked, squeezing her hands between her thighs to stop the shaking, aware that her face was still slightly pink. "That Dumbledore made me Head Girl because I'm … muggleborn?"

She looked from Marlene to Kat as they both exchanged a look. Marlene turned back to Lily, determined. "Don't be daft. Nobody thinks that. We all know you were in the running long before Evie Nicholson could even perform a levitating charm."

"She wasn't even prefect before this year," Kat pointed out. "She's just jealous."

Lily didn't say anything, looking automatically toward Dumbledore, who was chatting amicably with Professor Sprout. Perhaps Evie Nicholson wasn't entirely wrong. What better way to force unity and tolerance than make a muggleborn Head Girl? It made sense. Lily would be Hogwarts' way of making a statement. She would be the perfect mascot, the perfect token muggleborn, the perfect prop.

All of the pride and excitement she had felt at pinning on her badge that morning had vanished, replaced by a queasiness in her stomach that she couldn't shake even as she took a sip of water in an attempt to quell it. She grabbed a paper napkin on the table and began picking at it, making little tears along its ridges. Kat and Marlene began chatting about Quidditch and the first match against Slytherin, but Lily couldn't bring herself to care, a low buzzing in her ears tuning out all conversation around her. She just wanted to go to bed.

At the end of the feast, Lily abruptly got to her feet, looking around defiantly as she ordered the first-years to line up between the tables and await further instructions. Marlene looked up and caught James's eye. He was looking at Marlene knowingly, and Marlene knew he had overheard the conversation with Evie. He blinked—closing his eyes for a second longer in reassurance—and then got to his feet as well, adjusting his Head Boy badge.

Satisfied, Marlene and Kat started to leave, joining the throngs of students on their way back up to the dormitories. As they passed by the rest of the Gryffindors, Marlene suddenly stopped.

Kat raised her eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Wait up," Marlene told her. She backtracked, taking a few steps backwards until she was hovering above a girl with a long blond braid. Marlene tapped the girl's shoulder, and she turned around, the smile sliding off her face.

"Hullo?"

"Evie," Marlene said cheerfully. "I just forgot to say earlier—congratulations on making prefect this year."

"Thanks," Evie said warily, eyeing Marlene.

"You know," Marlene said conversationally, "I heard Dumbledore had a hard time picking a replacement for Lily. But well, I'm glad he chose you. The school needed to see that someone like you could become prefect, even if you did fail an O.W.L. I think it's brave."

Evie's jaw dropped, and Mary just glared daggers at Marlene from beside her. A few students whistled under their breath. Marlene patted Evie's shoulder, lowering her voice and smiling purposefully as she looked straight at the shell-shocked girl.

"It's okay. We can't all ace Charms," Marlene said. "I'm sure you'll do us proud regardless." She didn't wait for Evie to react, ambling away with a smirk.

Kat was grinning as Marlene fell into step beside her. She shook her head, "You're wild, Mar. She's going to have it out for you all year."

Marlene shrugged. Marlene was a good friend, and sometimes she was okay with martyring herself.


	9. September 1977: The Plot Thickens

**SEPTEMBER 5, 1977**

* * *

It started out a normal day.

The first few days of seventh year were in fact rather less eventful than he would've liked. Perhaps he expected a little change in the usual start of term routine, but then again, every year a batch of seventh years attended their last sorting ceremony and no heavenly apparitions appeared to serenade them nor did the Great Hall burst into a sudden chorus of their greatness and the echoing chasm they would leave in their wake once they left the school.

The last few years had been eventful enough for him. Eventful, actually, hardly even covered it. His cheek still stung where his mother had smote him in a shower of curses and rage and hatred that dug into his heart more than he wished to acknowledge. His fists still balled whenever he recalled standing outside his house of fifteen years, no longer his house now, for the last time as it tucked itself away between numbers eleven and thirteen in a final seal upon his banishment.

He was not loved. His mother, his father, they had never loved him; he was but a pawn in their game of pure blood domination. He was an heir, or at least, he used to be. But he was not loved, he was not petted, or held close or given kind words or even interest as such. He was taught to use silverware, to eat with finesse and to impress at the table but he was never taught to love the homely atmosphere of a family sitting together for a simple meal. He was taught to dance with perfection and grace, to speak with composure, to walk with poise, but he was not taught embrace, to show simple affection, to give comfort. He was beautiful, godlike with his patrician features but he was a statue of marble; cold and stone inside.

Whenever he carelessly tossed this comparison around Remus, Remus always gave him that mysterious half-smile and told him he was more like an egg—so perfect and smooth outside that nobody dared prod further but a melted yellow and rather sticky pool if he were to fall and break.

James would then snort and say Sirius was flattering himself and that he, James, had rather thought Sirius to be a stinky snot-nosed brat when he first met him and the only kind of marble Sirius could be compared to was that which composed his toilet seat at home. In response to which Sirius would let out a roar and jump James and they would tussle at the feet of an exasperated Remus and a crackling Peter.

Peter. He never bothered to take Peter's opinion on things but that one time he had, Peter had just given him a confused look and an "Oka-a-ay … can you help me find Remus' stash of chocolate? I think he hid it again."

Sirius had recently concluded that the half-mad, annoying feeling of inadequacy he felt around his fellow Gryffindors was actually love.

He got a sense of this from his time at the Potters' house. To say that he enjoyed himself for those brief few weeks would be a sad understatement. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were all elegant enthusiasm and wit that came with age and a well-rounded personality. It was easy to see where James got his easy confidence, frank candor and penchant for talking. He had seen how Mrs. Potter would ruffle James' hair and kiss his cheek, and the half- amused exasperation on James' face was such a perfect reflection of the sentiments Sirius associated with Remus and James and even Peter in his heart that he had no doubt that he did indeed love his mates very much.

And true to all who love, Sirius also experienced this summer, what is was like to vicariously feel the pain of a person dear to him, and though he wasn't very good at handling emotions to begin with, the added feeling of helplessness was what got to him the most. When Mr. Potter had fallen ill with Dragonpox that summer, it took everything he had to stand next to James during the entire ordeal until one day, when Sirius had exchanged one look with Remus and fled, morphing into a large black dog as he bounded into the expanse of deserted forest on the outskirts of the village. Perhaps it was unfair to leave Remus and Peter to shoulder the burden but Remus had always been the strongest of them all, his own burden outweighing any kind of extra weight that may be thrown at him, and Peter was obedient and would be much more of a help that he, Sirius, was.

James hadn't been the same for the rest of the holidays.

When he had expressed a desire not to return for seventh year, Sirius' stomach had dropped. No amount of bating from Sirius, or reasonable convincing from Remus, or flashing of James' new Head Boy badge by Peter could shake James. But it was Euphemia Potter who had finally made the call and told him in no uncertain terms that if James did not get on that train in September, she would hang him by his toes in their basement.

James had regained some of the old cheerfulness once they had stepped back into the castle, and the rest of the time he threw wholeheartedly into balancing his duties as Head Boy with those as Quidditch Captain. Sirius had to agree with Remus, however grudgingly, that Lily Evans was helping unknowingly in her own way too by yelling at James periodically and though Sirius disliked her with a burning contempt, the familiarity of the gesture really seemed to be helping James get a grip on his life.

It had been less than a week since the start of term, and James was scratching away a rough Quidditch schedule on a spare parchment in front of Sirius, and Peter was reading the papers next to James, and Remus was being very quiet in his seat beside Sirius, and Sirius was watching the Slytherin table, and all in all the day was off to a normal start.

"Anything to report, Peter?" Remus asked suddenly, resurfacing from the bout of brooding that he'd recently become very prone to falling into.

James paused in his writing, hand tense.

Peter cleared his throat behind the paper. "Elven Toot from the Department of Magical Mishaps went missing three days ago. The aurors didn't find any signs of struggle at his home. The Head of the Department says people under him disappear on a regular basis and reckons that Toot will reappear in the fifth floor toilet tomorrow morning. The wife claims she didn't hear anything unusual from him while she was on vacation. Blimey, and what a wife. How do you think this Toot fellow snagged a bird like that?"

"He must be filthy rich," James reasoned. "Is she a looker, Pete?"

"I wouldn't trust his judgment. Peter is attracted to anyone well-endowed in the region of the chest," Sirius said.

Peter glared balefully at both James and Sirius. Toot was only one of the thousands of missing person cases that flooded the papers every day, and amidst the terror and morbidity looming outside the castle walls, it was all they could do to keep themselves upbeat for the sake of their own sanity.

"Well? Is she, you know ... ?" James gestured toward his chest.

Remus looked pointedly at Peter with a raised eyebrow. Peter turned an interesting shade of red before clearing his throat with a reluctant nod and sliding down in his seat. Sirius smirked triumphantly and returned back to his neglected toast. James whistled.

"Anyway," Peter continued loudly as Sirius winked at James, "There was an attack in a small town in East Ireland. No casualties reported. The town's in shambles though, completely razed. All muggle, I believe."

It was relatively good news. Heartened, Peter turned the page. "The Order of the Merlin was awarded to some fellow from Australia for his work on the properties of wolfsbane. Take a look—this might interest you, Moony. There's been—"

A loud explosion from the Slytherin table interrupted Peter's report, causing a minor apocalypse involving a horde of green-clad students squawking through their sudden profuse growth of nostril hair and a major stampede of individuals from the teachers' table. The Headmaster continued smiling insanely into his porridge as the ensuing mayhem waltzed under his nose. McGonagall was turning red. It took a few seconds for Sirius to stop crackling in triumph before Peter could continue again.

"—been a bit of a breakthrough in the usage of aconite in the field of medical potioneering and experts reckon that this new information can help them treat patients suffering from dragon pox, spleen malady and even perhaps lycanthropy."

In unison, Peter, Sirius and James all turned to look at Remus, who reached over for the syrup and then began to carefully pour it onto his plate. This arrangement prevailed as they politely waited for Remus to finish the essential task of slathering syrup on his carefully arranged pancakes.

When he failed to react even after his pancake was halfway down his throat, James coughed deliberately. Remus spared him a glance.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"I don't know, Wormtail, did you hear something?"

"Padfoot …"

"No. It wasn't like I was reading anything important."

"That's what I thought."

"Padfoot," James repeated sternly.

"No Prongs, it's quite alright," Remus said calmly, wiping his knife on his napkin, "I understand that you expected me to be more responsive. Sorry to disappoint."

"Is everything alright?" James asked him quietly.

"Everything's fine," Remus said lightly, his voice trilling in a brittle way. He suddenly pushed his plate away from himself and got up. "I'm feeling a bit queasy. We have half an hour until class starts, I think I'll lie down a bit. Don't wait up."

Three heads turned simultaneously and their surprise had hardly registered before Remus disappeared around the corner of the entrance.

"What was that about?" Peter asked blankly.

James quietly folded his paper. "Leave it."

"I most definitely will not 'leave it'," Sirius said harshly, getting to his feet. James gave him a long look.

"Honestly Padfoot, don't, he wants to be alone..."

"Shut up," Sirius snapped at him, "Stop fucking acting like you're suddenly the adult around here."

James rolled his eyes but complied and continued folding his paper with pursed lips. Peter looked in the opposite direction. Sirius roughly swung out of his seat and stormed after Remus.

Things had changed drastically since last year. Remus was a lot moodier, a lot more reserved, a lot more withdrawn. He would have long spells where he would simply refuse to talk, refuse to react, as if he had no energy left to make the effort of procuring expressions on his face. There was something troubling him which he regularly mulled over.

And then there was James, suddenly the mature one, the adult, the compassionate and sensible Head Boy, and his sagacity and solemn superiority pissed Sirius off. He did not understand this James because they had always been on the same page before and now James was becoming more and more alienated from him.

Some idiosyncrasies of their group still prevailed. Sirius seemed to be the only one consistent in his habits; he still raged, he still pouted, he still flirted, he still laughed, he still strutted.

And well, Peter still loved to gorge.

Sirius didn't knock, he simply barged into their dormitory. Remus had long since given up trying to protect his privacy from invasions of Sirius Black's presumptuousness. Sirius knew where Remus was. Sirius knew Remus like he knew himself. They were kin, bound in canine understanding and a mutual darkness that resided in their souls however much they tried to hide it. He could picture Remus sitting behind the curtains of his four-poster bed, cross-legged, chin resting on his hand as he hunched over, tracing intricate patterns on his neatly laid blanket with his pale, slender fingers.

Some idiosyncrasies of their group still prevailed.

Sirius tore open the curtains, not surprised to see his mental picture taking the form of reality before him, not surprised when Remus made no sign of acknowledgement as Sirius threw himself on Remus' bad, yanking the curtains closed as the air took on a blood-like glow from the light filtering through the red of the drapes around them.

Sirius lay back on his elbows, feet propped up on Remus' pillow as he observed the other boy with a cocked head and humorless smile. Remus did not speak. He ran a finger across an invisible swirl, thin lips whispering ghosts of words to himself. Sirius watched his fingers; Remus' fingers fascinated him. They were grace in flesh and bone.

"I wish you wouldn't barge in like that," Remus said eventually, evenly.

That's bullshit, and Sirius knew it, because this was routine, and Remus would put a lock on the door if he wanted to stop Sirius, but he never did, and Sirius was never stopped.

"That's bullshit," Sirius told him calmly.

Remus' fingers paused. Sirius reached for the back of his hand and began tracing light circles there with the tips of his own fingers. Such pale hands, veins visible beneath white, scarred skin.

"Why did the report on wolfsbane upset you?" Sirius asked, voice hushed. It felt odd to use a hushed voice, for he only ever used it around Remus, only ever did such odd, intimate things around Remus, and it had been a long time since the limelight of Sirius' attention had fallen on Remus and Sirius had gotten a chance to approach him like this.

Remus didn't withdraw his hand and Sirius continued his ministrations.

"Do you think I haven't heard all this before?" Remus responded presently, "Do you think I wasn't excited, hopeful the first time I did?"

Here he laughed, an unhappy, sardonic laugh. "Hearing it fifty-four times in twenty different languages takes the glory out it, Sirius."

Sirius looked keenly at him. Remus avoided his eye, turning his head. His brown hair, in need of a haircut, fell conveniently over his face, shadowing the amber of his eyes. "I've heard it all before. Do you think we haven't tried? Because we have. We've tried everything."

"I know," Sirius murmured. "You went to Greece in third year. And Angola the summer after first."

"And Iceland and India and Venezuela and Turkey and … well, I had made a list once. Twenty-seven countries. Fifty-one rumored cures. Seventeen of them involved puncturing of flesh. Twelve included heavy doses of poisonous drugs."

He spoke in neutral tones as if he'd repeated these words until they'd run stale. His eyes flashed as they met Sirius'.

"Five made use of wolfsbane. None of them worked."

Remus closed his eyes. "None of them will. I don't want you lot to carry false hopes for me. And I don't need your pity when the latest attempt won't work."

Sirius shrugged. "I won't give you pity. And it could work, you know."

Remus shrugged in return. "Maybe."

There was a comfortable silence as Remus' fingers continued to dance across his covers as if playing a tune and Sirius watched their progress with a fascination that never seemed to dwindle. It was a rather captivating activity, one of those mad things Sirius found that he enjoyed.

Sirius finally tore away from his musings and looked up. "Coming to class?"

"Yeah … okay." Remus said carefully, swinging his legs over the side of his bed as light filtered into their private quarters. Sirius followed him out, stretching his limbs in a feline fashion.

"So, what do you think of Toot's knockers?"

Remus shot him an amused glance over his shoulder. "Must I have an opinion on them?"

"Kind of difficult not to," Sirius smirked, falling into step with Remus as they walked down the dormitory steps.

"They are quite ... impressive. But I'm more of a legs person."

"Are you? I didn't ... no, actually, come to think of it, your eyes always were downcast when you talked to girls, I just assumed you were staring at the floor."

"If I talked to girls."

"If you talked to girls," Sirius admitted. He stepped out of the portrait hole and turned to wait for Remus to catch up. "Evans has a nice pair."

"Of legs?"

"Yeah."

"Don't let James hear you say that."

"I'm sure he'll be a sport about it. Is that why you were pining after her last year?"

Remus put his hands in his pockets leisurely and snorted. "There's this concept, Sirius, it's called personality. I liked Lily, not her admittedly wonderful legs."

"Don't see it myself but I'll take your word for it, Moony."

The chatter of students filled the silence interspersing their conversation. As they turned the corner, Sirius caught sight of the sky outside.

"The full's soon," Sirius said cheerfully.

Remus fingered the shoulder strap of his bag and gave Sirius a sideways look and tired smile. Beside him, Sirius winked outrageously at a pretty Ravenclaw, and a few minutes later, James and Peter caught up to them, James prattling on about the latest Quidditch updates and Peter still eating his smuggled muffins. By the time all four Marauders walked into Charms, things were rather back to normal, or at least, as normal as things could possible be just then.

Some idiosyncrasies still prevailed. And that, for them, was an infallible source of relief.

**SEPTEMBER 7, 1977**

* * *

It was late Wednesday afternoon, and the Great Hall was silent, expect for the scratching of quills and crinkling of pages being turned. Small groups of students were scattered across the four long house tables and Professor McGonagall sat on her seat at the teacher's table. On the far end of the Gryffindor table sat a girl, bent over her book as flaming red hair spilled onto the pages. She was jiggling a foot, lost in thought. She fingered the badge on her robes that spelled Head Girl, and she looked thoroughly absorbed in her own world.

Which was true, because Lily Evans had a lot going on in her mind just then. It was only the first month of school and she already had backlog. There was simply too much work to do, what with N.E.W.T.S. this year, and she was contemplating the limited number of seventh years inside doing their homework. Being Head was not easy walk in the park either. And the way things had turned out, not only was Lily seriously annoyed, but she knew, with a sense of foreboding, that she was in for a difficult time.

Lily groaned, resting her forehead on her arms. James Potter as the Head Boy was turning out to be very difficult to navigate indeed. Not a day went by that they didn't have some squabble or another, making the first prefect meeting of the year unnecessarily fraught. She could tell it was particularly stressing Remus out to be caught in the middle.

The only things keeping her sane were Marlene and Kat. They needed each other—Voldemort's attacks were burgeoning, and a sobering number of students had returned with summer memories flooded with funerals and lost relatives. Kat's father was muggleborn, but the Khans had generally kept a low profile: most of them were scholars, academics, or students, and spent a majority of their time behind the pages of books, either figuratively or literally. Marlene, though a pureblood, was a bit more high-profile. She was a black woman, after all, and her mother's side of the family was especially outspoken against Voldemort, making them a target.

"Hey Lily."

Lily looked up from her book. It was Mary.

Lily must have looked surprised, because Mary gave a tentative smile and gestured to the spot next to Lily. "Mind if I sit?"

"Of course not," Lily said, clearing the portion of the desk beside her stack of books. Mary sat down and gave her a weak smile.

"The library's a bit ... crowded. I thought I'd sit next to somebody I knew."

Lily's eyes met Mary's and an understanding passed between them. The crowd Mary spoke of was the Slytherins, the ones who lurked in the corridors waiting to hex the muggleborns, the ones who peopled the tables in the library and whispered obscene, dirty words under their breaths at them. They had always existed, but this year something had changed. There was a shift in the atmosphere. Hexes suddenly weren't enough—attackers sought to draw blood. Sirius Black no longer defied his cousins out of contempt for them, but to defend his friends. Marlene never left Lily's side if she could help it. The teachers would walk the students to their next class under the pretense of getting a little exercise. Mary Macdonald no longer sat in the library because the words she'd heard over and over in her years at Hogwarts suddenly haunted her at night, whispered to her by bad memories in her sleep.

Mary broken Lily's train of thought with a heavy sigh. "Listen, I'm sorry about Evie."

"Oh," Lily said, "Yeah, it's alright."

Mary snorted. "Not really, but I talked to her."

Lily knew Mary understood why Evie's remarks had cut so deep, of course she did. But Lily wasn't interested in holding it against Mary. Things were changing, spiraling out of control, and they had to stick together. There were three muggleborns in Gryffindor in their year: Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, and Adam Winchester. Perhaps the situation was not so dire yet, but they wanted to maintain that count out of the Hospital Wing as far as they could.

Lily thought over this solemnly, the responsibility of being Head Girl suddenly weighing down on her. She was the leader now; it was her duty to ensure the safety of her fellow students. She had to make sure her friends, her classmates, were safe. She was a muggleborn herself, and though she knew that a majority of the students sneered at a muggleborn Head Girl at a time like this, she had to stay strong, however much it terrified her.

Mary opened her book. Lily turned a page, sinking back into her reading. Both girls returned quietly to their work, feeling slightly safer in each other's silent company.

* * *

Marlene was searching for a Transfiguration book in the library stacks when it happened.

That was the strange thing about expectations versus reality. Things never happened when you expect them to, they don't happen even as you anticipate them every waking moment of the day. But it's when your mind gives it a rest, relaxes and starts thinking about something else—that's when it happens.

Marlene had been thinking about Garrett MacMillan every other minute over the last three months. They broke up the very last day of their fifth year, she remembered excruciating details: him on his knees, clutching her hand, his own shaking, looking up at her with his dark chocolate eyes moist and desperate. Her wrenching her hand away, the lump in her throat so suffocating that she wanted to reach inside and claw at it. Her feet moving on their own accord, taking her further and further away from him, her heart sinking deeper and deeper into her stomach until it felt like she was dragging an anchor behind her. With every passing day it felt like she lost one more detail, one piece of the whole picture, fading away from her memory until she couldn't really remember most of what was said, or done, or what Garrett looked like when it happened. But she remembered the pain, and panic, the despair. She may have broken up with him, but she was far from okay about it. One doesn't simply forget four years at the drop of a hat.

Speaking of things that were hard to forget, Marlene realized a few seconds too late that she was practically frozen to her spot, staring vacantly at what was unfolding right before her eyes.

She would perhaps not have recognized the blond hair before, but ever since she'd snubbed Evie Nicholson in the Great Hall at the start of term, she'd kept an eye out for the girl in case Evie did try to get back at her as Kat had suggested, building up Marlene's paranoia for her own amusement. To her credit, Marlene didn't give a damn what Nicholson was planning, she could take her with even a mediocre left hook in a blink of the eye.

Physical brawls were one thing. Making out with one's ex was a whole different ball game that Marlene had not in the slightest prepared for.

"Oh!"

Evie had finally caught sight of Marlene, and the girl had the audacity to look mortified as she let go of Garrett's shirt, practically throwing him away from her in an attempt to distance herself. Garrett finally turned, his eyes widening when they rested on Marlene, and he quickly disentangled his fingers from Evie's hair.

"Mar," Garrett croaked. "Er. I'm sorry, this must be really awkward—"

"—No," Marlene said, holding up her hand. Who had taken control over her body? It certainly wasn't her, she could feel a caustic fury burning her insides yet she noted absently that her face was impassive and her hand, held up to indicate silence, was steady and calm. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. You should carry on."

"Right," Garrett muttered, stealing glances in her direction, confused. She gave him a smile because what the hell, that much weakness she could spare for him.

"I'm so sorry Mar," Evie breathed, patting down her hair. "I really am, I—"

"—it's fine, didn't expect you to be advanced enough in Charms to master _muffliato_," Marlene said. She wondered if she'd been born hardwired with these cutting responses that seemed to hurl themselves off the tip of her tongue like her mouth was a cannon. She hoped they weren't a finite resource Perhaps it was that Evie had used her nickname—Mar—that had set Marlene off. Like they were friends. Like somehow Nicholson could insult her best friend and make out with her ex and they'd somehow still be buddies.

Kat was right, Evie was out to get her.

Evie flushed, turning beet-red. Garrett was looking at Marlene funny now, and Marlene didn't like that, not one bit. But what could she say to defend herself? She's the one who broke up with him, she didn't get to have any feelings about it. She was no longer allowed to.

"Right," Marlene forced herself to say, ignoring what felt like a hole in her body where her organs used to be. "Carry on, then. I'll get out of your hair. Stay safe and all that jazz."

She made it all the way back to the dorms without running or really making a single sound. Once she slammed the door shut and checked nobody was there, she threw her head back and screamed.

* * *

"Is that a new sweater?"

Peter turned his head to look at the boy that was crouching to Remus's other side, the silvery cloak that covered them rustling slightly with the movement. In the dimness, he could make out the striking silhouette of Sirius Black, eyes narrowed as if he was squinting intently through the threads of the cloak that obfuscated their vision.

"It was his birthday a few days ago, wasn't it?" Remus asked lightly, as if they were strolling in the gardens and observing peonies rather than crouching outside the library after curfew. But then again, Peter thought, Remus always sounded like he was strolling through a garden.

"Maybe Bella made it for him," Sirius muttered, and then barked in laughter at the image of Bellatrix Black knitting. "Laced with poison and children's toes and grand-pappy's blood."

"Didn't your grandfather start an illegal muggle-fighting ring?" Remus asked.

Peter gasped audibly in horror. He was good at the theatrics, which James usually appreciated when it served to bolster his own theatrical narrations.

"Yep." Sirius said cheerfully.

Remus suddenly whipped his head around to look toward the entrance to the library. The three of them were standing in a little alcove in the stone wall a few feet away from the large statute that guarded the front of the double doors. They could hear footsteps and muffled noises from behind the door getting closer and clearer. Through the tinted library windows, they could see three figures walking in their direction, lit dimly by the lanterns that peopled the walls and cast shimmering shadows upon the towering book stacks.

"They're coming this way," Remus said sharply, grabbing both boys' arms. Peter stopped fidgeting and stood still. Sirius was already still, like a dog that'd caught the scent of prey.

"… not like we didn't know it was happening," said a low, drawling voice. "It's just a matter of time."

"Well how much time?"

"Soon enough. We're planning for the end of the week. Mulciber is making the last of the arrangements."

The three figures chuckled at each other as if they were in on an amusing secret. "This'll be good. Serves those mudblood-lovers right."

Remus, Sirius, and Peter exchanged a look of alarm.

"Say," one of the boys said, "Should we wait until October to do it? Make it a Halloween thing? It would be in keeping with the theme."

"Nah, why wait that long, I want to see the fear in their eyes _today_."

"Heh. This better work, I sneaked so much from Slughorn's closet that he's bound to notice what's missing …"

The voices began trailing away as the three Slytherins walked down the corridor, the echoes of their footsteps fading away.

* * *

"You went without me?" James squawked.

That was the first thing James said when the three of them reported back to the common room. He was laying on the sofa, book in hand, his glasses pushed back over his head as he read. Sirius threw himself down on his usual armchair and Remus and Peter sat down on the floor near the fire.

"You were busy with Head Boy stuff," Sirius replied with a shrug, lazily shaking the leg that was draped over the arm of the chair.

James didn't look satisfied with this answer, but he said nothing more about it. Instead, he sat up impatiently and patted the seat, closing his book. "Well go on then, what did you overhear?"

Sirius recounted the brief conversation they'd listened in on. James's brow furrowed as Sirius spoke, his frown becoming deeper and deeper as Sirius continued. When Sirius was done, James was staring at the ceiling, contemplative.

"Reckon they're planning revenge for the nostril hair?" James asked, tapping his chin.

"I reckon it's something worse," Sirius said darkly. "I reckon it has something to do with the Death Eaters from Knockturn Alley."

"I wouldn't necessarily jump to that conclusion," Remus said carefully, tracing invisible circles in the floor. "They didn't say anything that would indicate that."

Sirius looked skeptical. "Muggle-lovers?"

"I think it was more profane than that," Peter muttered.

Remus shrugged. "They say that all the time."

"Well who was it?" James asked. "Who did you overhear outside the library?"

"Avery, Wilkes, and—" Peter glanced quickly at Sirius before he finished, "—Regulus."

James, Peter, and Remus turned to look at Sirius simultaneously. Sirius was humming to himself, a small smile on his lips, oblivious to the stares from his friends.

"Regulus was there?" James asked cautiously. Regulus was a sore spot for Sirius, and none of them were sure where exactly Sirius fell on the spectrum of not giving a single fuck to giving so many fucks that he'd attack Reg in the middle of the Great Hall at breakfast.

"Yup," Sirius said cheerfully. "Git. Had a new sweater, too. It was ugly."

James snorted in amusement. "Well I dunno, Padfoot, Moony has a point. Maybe it's nothing."

Sirius frowned like he was pouting. "Boo. You all are no fun."

"I'm sorry there's no muggleborn blood-bath in the works to keep you entertained," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"We'll see," Sirius said, hopping to his feet, his eyes twinkling. The rising animosity and tension needed some resolution, and Sirius was itching for a reason to have a go at the Slytherins. "I'm sticking to what I think it is."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Recruiting. They're holding some sort of initiation with the Death Eaters," Sirius replied, stretching. "It'll be a whole thing. Big event."

James snorted again. "Cor, that would be ballsy."

"You mark my words," Sirius called over his shoulder as he ambled to the boys dormitory. "They're planning something sinister. And I for one can't wait to body-bind some Slytherin and throw them in the lake."

He kept humming to himself as he walked up the stairs, disappearing around the corner. James turned to Remus and Peter, who were staring contemplatively into the fire. "You think he's right? That it's big?"

They both shrugged.

"Cor," James said, falling back onto the sofa and grabbing his book. "The plot thickens."


	10. September 1977 Lily Should Trust Her Gut

**SEPTEMBER 9, 1977**

* * *

It was late at night on a Friday when she found him.

She'd swapped with the Hufflepuff prefect, Brady Hiddleston, who wanted the Friday off because it was a friend's birthday. She didn't mind, she quite liked Joyce Jefferson, a Ravenclaw seventh-year prefect and good friend of Remus's ex-girlfriend, Veronica Beezley. She was tall and quiet, her dark eyebrows giving her a look of intensity that complemented her general air of solemnity. Even when she laughed, it was a calming act.

They'd had an uneventful patrol, spending their time strolling around and chatting about unimportant things. Lily didn't expect that state of affairs to change as drastically as it ended up changing.

"We're learning non-verbals in Defense right now," Jefferson explained. "It's rough, since we have Defense with the Slytherins. I mean, only two major injuries so far and Dilton got sent to the Hospital Wing for vomiting feathers, but all in all we're not in bad shape."

"We had pretty severe injuries," Lily said as they turned the corner, recalling her sixth year. "Peter Pettigrew grew whiskers and a tail though, it was kind of funny."

Lily paused, and a dark cloud seemed to flitter over her face. "Although now that I think about it, Potter and Black may have been pulling a prank. Honestly, I can never tell which mishaps over the years they were responsible for. Nothing else, though. A few cuts and bruises."

"I don't know how I feel about non-verbals," Joyce said slowly, weighing her words. "On one hand they're dead useful to know. On the other, it just makes the Slytherins that much better at dueling."

"Dueling?"

Joyce looked sheepish, suddenly, and glanced carefully about her before she leaned in, eyes sparkling with the secret she was about the divulge. "Well, so. A couple of us have started a dueling club. It's not really a club, it's only about five or six of us right now, but it's still hush hush."

"Why is it hush hush?" Lily asked.

"So that the Slytherins don't know, of course. They're not invited. Primarily because they're sort of, well, the targets," Joyce explained matter-of-factly.

Lily wasn't sure what to say, so she didn't say anything. She supported it, it's not that she didn't. It made sense, learning how to fight, teaching themselves defensive spells that would erect a barrier of safety between them and their attackers, even if it wasn't impenetrable, even if it was just an illusion. It all was very rational. Perhaps she didn't want to admit that it had come to the point, where secret dueling clubs were necessary, and students had to wonder whether the latest class lesson was going to be used against them the next day in the corridors. Or perhaps she didn't like the rule-breaking aspect of it, because she was trying so hard to make sure she left Hogwarts with an impeccable record since she knew that the places she sought employment at would hire a less-qualified pureblood instead of her in a heartbeat. Or perhaps it was just that she knew no amount of learning defensive spells was going to stem the tide of zealous attacks from Voldemort supporters. They were an unstoppable, ever-growing force.

It was at this moment, when she was turning this very thought over in her mind, that they heard the bone-chilling scream.

They looked at each other, frozen for a second, before they were jolted into action, footsteps echoing loudly and erratically as they sprinted down the hallway in a mad rush to find the source of the agonized noise. At one point, Joyce stumbled, tripping over an uneven stone on the floor, and Lily caught her automatically without even breaking her pace, grabbing the girl's upper arm and pulling her forward until she fell back into stride. When Lily let go of Joyce's arm, she realized her palms were sweaty.

"Over here!"

Lily had just kept running in blind panic, the adrenaline that coursed through her blood fueling her steady sprint. She practically skidded to a stop when she heard Joyce's voice, whirling around as Joyce beckoned frantically from where she was kneeling right by a statue of a large ogre on the second floor, around the corner from the bathrooms. By the time Lily got there, Joyce had managed to coax the wailing student out from behind the stone pedestal.

Lily kneeled beside Joyce, taking a deep breath to even her voice. "Are you … are you alright?"

"What's your name?" Joyce asked.

The student had stopped screaming but his limbs were still shaking, his haphazardly cut bangs plastered to his sweaty forehead. His eyes darted back and forth between Joyce and Lily, but he looked more like he was in shock rather than fearful.

He licked his lips and croaked, "Jose."

"Jose," Lily repeated, shuffling closer. "Are you alright? Can you tell us what happened?"

Jose looked balefully up at Lily, as if it was difficult to find the right words.

"Lily," Joyce gasped, her eyes glued to the boy's arm. Lily saw the blood instantly, no longer hidden in the stone ogre's shadow. It looked like his forearm had been slashed, red splotches across the sleeve of his Oxford shirt like a splatter of paint.

"Who did this?" Lily asked, but she already knew the answer.

The boy was fine. They took Jose to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey ushered them inside and had him lay in one of the empty beds, fluttering about him with practiced skill. The cuts on his arm weren't so bad, the shirt made it all look a lot worse than it was. They were cuts, nevertheless, and it looked like they were deliberately made to create a pattern.

"A word," Joyce said darkly. "They were trying to spell something on his arm."

All Lily could make out was an "M". She didn't try to guess what it was supposed to be, but Jose seemed to understand too. He looked at Lily with fear and humiliation in his eyes, and all she could do was grip his shoulder to let him know he was not alone. He seemed to appreciate that, and given that he was more shaken than hurt, he drifted off to sleep once all the excitement had worn off and Madam Pomfrey begun quietly shooing them away.

Joyce and Lily didn't speak to one another as they made their way back to the main part of the castle. There wasn't much to say, except perhaps, Lily thought, to tell Joyce that she and her dueling friends at the very least had a reason to be sneaking around together.

"We should tell Dumbledore first thing tomorrow," Lily said presently, as soon as the thought entered her mind. Joyce nodded.

"We should also talk to Jose when he's awake—he can tell us who did it," Joyce said, her voice cold, pursing her lips.

Lily sighed, and as her breath left her and her body relaxed, she realized she had been clenching her fists so hard that there were crescent nail marks on her palms.

Lily dropped off Joyce at the Ravenclaw dormitory entrance before she went back to Gryffindor's. She wasn't expecting anybody to be awake given that it was nearly 11 at night, but she wasn't surprised when she walked in to see the fire kindling and Kat and Marlene draped lazily over the upholstery, chatting. They perked up when they saw Lily walk over and throw herself onto one of the sofas.

Kat raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

Lily just groaned.

"Well it's over now, isn't it," Marlene pointed out sagely, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She yawned, stretching out slowly like a cat. "So, what was it? Kid puke on you? Did you run into Peeves?"

Lily looked from Kat to Marlene. "A student was attached."

They both shot up in their seats, suddenly alert. "_What_?"

"Who?" Marlene demanded.

Lily shrugged. "Some Hufflepuff first-year."

"Do you know who did it?"

"What happened, is he okay?"

Lily looked blearily from one person to another. "His arm was cut, but he's fine. Think they were trying to mark him or something. Dunno who did it, but I'm sure we can all take an educated guess."

Kat lowered herself back into her seat, contemplative. Marlene's expression had darkened, and she stared into the fire with an odd intensity. Lily picked at a stray thread on her skirt. They sat like that in silence, each immersed in her own thoughts.

"We have to do something," Marlene said, breaking the silence, her voice hardly above a murmur. She was shaking her head.

"What?" Lily asked warily.

"We have to do something," this time, Marlene spoke with more conviction. Kat exchanged a look with Lily over Marlene's head. She had an idea, as she always did, a plan of action.

"Like what?" Kat asked.

Marlene stood up, crossing her arms and finally looking up at them. "We should start a club."

"Excuse me?"

Lily didn't say anything but she vehemently shared Kat's confusion.

"A club," Marlene repeated, her eyes gleaming. "An anti-Death Eater club. A club where we can rally, strategize, fight back."

Kat and Lily exchanged another knowing look, and Marlene caught it, frowning in irritation. "What? You don't agree?"

Lily shrugged, muttering "I suppose" as Kat hummed vaguely in agreement.

Marlene's frown deepened, and she crossed her arms. "What's wrong with you two?"

"Nothing's wrong with us," Lily said, her eyebrows dipping. "I mean, okay. Sure. We can start a club."

"You don't sound thrilled," Marlene commented dryly.

Lily shrugged again and got up, rubbing her shoulder where a phantom pain had sprung up since she'd return to Hogwarts. She hypothesized that it was stress, but she couldn't quite be sure. It felt like something was pressing down on her shoulders, an oppressive weight that made her body ache. "I'm not. Look, let's talk about this later, I'm beat."

"I don't get it," Marlene said with mounting irritation, her voice correspondingly getting louder. "I thought _you_ of all people would want a club like this."

"Because I'm a muggleborn?" Lily shot back dryly, starting to lose her patience. Kat didn't say a word, her gaze drifting thoughtfully back and forth between Marlene and Lily.

"Well, yes," Marlene said.

"Sorry to disappoint," Lily said flatly.

"Look, Mar, we get that you care," Kat started, her voice soothing.

"You've been like this since summer," Marlene ploughed on, addressing Lily with accusation in her tone. "Afraid. Resigned. Like nothing can be done. What's your problem? The Lily I know wouldn't back down from a threat. The Lily I know would fight back."

"Cor, Mar," Lily said, running a hand over her face in frustration, her voice wavering with anger. "Stop pretending like you know. You don't know, okay? It's easy for you to stand there and tell us 'Oh, just, fight back, lalala' when you have nothing to lose. You don't know what any of us have to lose, so just … take a seat, alright?"

Marlene's eyebrows had risen up her forehead with Lily's each word, but her stance remained defiant. "_You're_ the one who said you wanted to stay and fight."

"I did, I do," Lily snapped. "But not on _your_ terms. This isn't even your fight, so why do you think you know how best to fight it? I mean Jesus, Mar, what do you want, a medal for being a good pureblood? Well you can have it. You've made it clear that you're one of the _good_ ones."

Marlene jutted out her chin, her voice suddenly an octave lower. "That's not what I wanted. Never."

Lily didn't trust herself to say anything more without hurting her friend. She glanced at Kat, who looked sympathetically back at her, but that didn't make Lily feel any better. She was exhausted, and she needed sleep.

Lily looked at Marlene and sighed. "Just … let it go, okay? I'm going to bed."

She trusted that Kat would tend to Marlene and help her lick her wounds, so she left them in the common room without another word. Her bones were aching more with every step that took her closer to her bed and her head hardly touched the pillow before she was embraced by the sweet release of sleep.

**SEPTEMBER 10-16, 1977**

* * *

She could see why James and Marlene were friends, and the similarities in their upbringing that made them two peas of a pod in many ways. Lily had more patience for Marlene, naturally, since they were friends. With James, however, she didn't give a flying fuck, wearing her irritation on her sleeve without regard.

"If I'd have been there, I'd have hunted down the Slytherin who did it," James declared, stabbing at his eggs. Lily figured the Head Boy should know what was happening but regretted telling him almost immediately.

"The student is fine, by the way," Lily replied. "I checked earlier. He was released from the Hospital Wing."

"That's not the point," James insisted. "Whoever did it should be brought to justice."

Lily ignored Marlene's enthusiastic hum from across the table that was cut off when Kat jabbed her surreptitiously in the leg, or so Lily assumed. They hadn't spoken since last night, coming down to breakfast together as usual like nothing had happened.

Lily responded dryly, "Oh I'm sorry, the victim's well-being is _not_ the point of this?"

"You said yourself he was fine," James shrugged. "But those Slytherins will do it again, mark my words. They're up to something."

"Meaning what?" Lily asked.

But James merely winked at her. Lily narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed to know something, and if that something had to do with what they overheard in Diagon Alley, she wanted to know.

"Meaning _what_, Potter?"

"Perhaps they need a little shaking up," Sirius said suddenly from James's other side. A slow smile was unfurling across his face as he gazed out into the distance.

Remus, who had also been quiet as he sat across from Sirius and James, looked up sharply at this. "Are you talking about …"

"I am indeed, Mr. Moony."

Peter gasped audibly. "You don't mean …"

"Oh," James said, catching on, his eyes widening like he was in a trance as he dropped his fork dramatically on his plate with a clatter. "Oh, Padfoot, you goddess, you exquisite _genius_."

Lily, seemingly the only sane one left on the Gryffindor table, looked nettled and just about fed up with everybody else. "Right. You all are off your rockers. I'm going to go to the library and get a head start on homework."

"I'll join you in a bit," Kat called after her cheerily.

The four boys seemed to be having an entire conversation through expressions alone, and Lily huffed, muttering "_weird_" under her breath as she left them at the table, not bothering to look at Marlene, who was smirking into her porridge.

She would find out later that week what the Marauders were on about, and she would remind herself that she had smelled something fishy from the moment Sirius Black opened his mouth at the breakfast table. She would tell herself later that she really ought to trust her instincts more, because that odd feeling in her gut that told her they were up to no good had been right. But unfortunately, that morning, she decided not to heed it, opting instead to fill the rest of her day with decidedly unexciting, un-infuriating activities.

A lot of that involved avoiding Marlene, which didn't seem to be too difficult given that Marlene was committed to the same philosophy of avoidance. Besides, it was a beautiful day out, meaning the Gryffindor team was practicing Quidditch and Lily had the entire castle and grounds to herself to amble around without worrying about running into Marlene or the Marauders. That would be a great band name, she thought to herself as she walked about the grounds, enjoying that she had the time to have such ridiculous thoughts. She read outside under a tree for a couple hours, had early lunch by herself, took a short nap in the afternoon, and was feeling rather good by the time she walked into the library to meet Kat for a study session.

It was almost time for dinner when they finally decided to call it a day, most of their readings for the week's classes done and their essay outlines squared away.

"Oof. I'm so glad Flitwick is out sick next week and we don't have to worry about that Charms essay," Kat said, throwing down her quill and stretching.

Lily rolled up the remaining parchments, packing her book bag. "Only means he's going to be draconian the week after. What a sweet, small, terrifying man."

But Kat was staring at something behind Lily, her eyes widening. She lowered her head and whispered. "Don't look now, but MacMillan and Nicholson are getting real cozy right behind you."

Lily expertly did not swivel her head to look, instead turning as if to put something into her bag that was slung across the back of her chair and glancing at them from the corner of her eyes. Evie's giggles carried across the library, and Garrett seemed to have his hand placed squarely and unambiguously on her thigh as they sat next to each other at one of the tables tucked away in the corner of the library furthest from Madam Pince. Lily turned back to Kat, eyebrow raised.

"Yup, they're together alright," Lily confirmed, slightly amused .

Kat shook her head, incredulous. "I thought Mar was acting funny all week. Think she saw them together?"

Lily suddenly felt guilty, not having picked up on her best friend's distress. "I don't know. She would've told us, though?"

"I don't think she feels like she can," Kat said. "She broke up with him, after all. What can she say?"

"She's allowed to have feelings about it," Lily said. "They were together for ages."

Kat shrugged. "She made her choice."

"I don't think it's as simple as that," Lily said gently.

Kat was smiling at her. "You cut her too much slack."

Lily looked at Kat appraisingly.

"Well," Kat said, leaning back in her seat. "She was being a git the other night, and you told her off. Rightfully."

It was strange to hear Kat taking Lily's side. Kat and Marlene had been friends since the first day of school—before that, even, since they'd met on the Hogwarts Express. They'd had two years on her, since she'd spent her first and second year at Hogwarts with Mary. She and Kat always had Marlene to tie them together—Kat had only agreed to take Lily in once Marlene had taken a liking to her. But Marlene was always going to be Kat's first friend.

"She'll come around," Kat said confidently. "She's just pouting right now, but she'll come around."

Kat looked at her watch, one of the few muggle items she kept with her, a relic of her brother, who had always been more avid about the muggle side of their family than Kat ever had. He had gifted her the watch when she'd turned 16 last year—a beautiful, rose-gold watch with a brown leather strap and dials for the month, day, and even lunar cycles.

"It's time for dinner," Kat said, lowering her hand, the watch catching and reflecting the remnants of rapidly receding sunlight from the library windows. "Shall we?"

It started with dinner on Saturday night. Straining her memory, Lily could remember one of the Slytherins—a second-year student Lily didn't know—choking on his pumpkin juice. In fact, he choked so bad that he had to be carried out by his peers, whisked away to the Hospital Wing as he gagged and wheezed and turned slightly blue. Lily didn't think much of it when it happened, not even when James and Sirius exchanged a knowing look at the table.

That was Saturday night.

Sunday was not particularly eventful, and Lily racked her brain for any signs that things were about to go awry. All she could think of was that evening in the common room, when she spotted the Marauders huddling together on the corner table, whispering enthusiastically to one another.

"What do you think they're up to?" Lily asked, her book open in her lap but her eyes surreptitiously fixed on the Marauders.

"Oh, leave them be you nosy cow," Marlene said airily, moving her rook forward. Kat huffed as it took her bishop by violently jumping on it, smashing it to pieces. "All this paranoia—it'll turn your hair white."

Lily sighed heavily—a noise so tired and worn that it paired nicely with Marlene's accusation of senescence. "They're up to something, I can feel it in my bones."

"Okay, weirdo," Marlene grumbled.

Monday was the day the cascade of strange incidents began, the day she could pinpoint knowing, for sure, that Something was Up.

It started right before Potions, which they had with the Slytherins. Lily was standing outside the classroom with Marlene and Kat a few minutes before class, waiting for Slughorn to call them all in along with a handful of other Gryffindor and Slytherin students that had also arrived early.

"We have a good shot at winning," Marlene was saying confidently, talking about Quidditch prospects that Lily cared little about but Kat was eager enough to listen to. "If we can find ourselves a decent beater, I think we could really smash … smash …"

Lily looked up from the piece of parchment she was doodling on as she leaned against the wall in response to Marlene inexplicably trailing off mid-sentence, her eyes wide and confused as she stared at Kat. It only took another second or two for Lily to identify the source of Marlene's consternation—Petra Prukiss, a seventh-year Slytherin with an upturned nose, was hovering next to Kat's elbow like she was in a trance, staring at Kat's arm.

"Oi," Marlene called sharply, still wide-eyed.

Purkiss did not seem to have heard Marlene, her eyes still fixed on Kat's arm. She raised a spindly hand and started reaching toward Kat.

"Er," Kat backed away a little in alarm.

"Hey!" Lily exclaimed, pushing herself off the wall, at the same time Marlene demanded, "What's the idea, eh?"

This seemed to snap Purkiss out of her trance and she stumbled back, blinking rapidly. She finally registered the three pairs of hostile eyes trailed on her and she backed away, her cheeks coloring up.

"Nice … watch," she choked out as if someone was compelling her to say it and then, mortified at her forthrightness, she scurried away back to where the other Slytherins were standing, staring in equal confusion.

Kat instinctively clutched her watch and turned back to Marlene and Lily, both their mouths hanging slightly open.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," Kat said uncertainly, still absently rubbing her wrist.

"What the bloody fuck?" Marlene blurted.

Lily wasn't sure what compelled her to, but at that moment she looked sharply in the direction of the Marauders, standing across the hall. They too were staring at Kat and Purkiss, along with the rest of the people outside the classroom. But Lily caught Sirius Black's tight-lipped smile, as if hiding a chuckle, and the gleam in Potter's eyes.

She should have trusted her instinct in that moment that was screaming at her that they were Up to Something.

The week just kept getting weirder and weirder.

On Tuesday, during patrol, Lily and Remus caught two Slytherin third-years in a broom closet playing with a battery-operated flashlight. It sounded more scandalous than it was—or not—but if nothing, it was plain weird. Lily and Remus found them out when they saw light flickering through the cracks of the broom cupboard door, opening it to find the two students huddled on the floor of the closet, both of them clutching the flashlight.

"What the bloody devil are you two doing?" Lily asked as two pairs of wide eyes stared back at her.

"Sorry," one of them, a boy, mumbled, quickly shoving the flashlight in his bag. The girl looked guilt-stricken but didn't contribute any sort of explanation.

"Oh no," Lily said, sidestepping to block the boy and holding out her hand, "Hand it over."

The boy avoided looking at Lily and practically threw the flashlight at her as if it were a hot potato.

"Go on, then," Remus advised the two students. They did not need to be told twice, scuttling away without looking over their shoulders.

"Where did they even get this?" Lily asked, staring down at the flashlight. "Were they just … turning it on and off? By themselves? In the middle of the night?"

"There's a supply closet of muggle artifacts on the first floor in front of the Muggle Studies classroom," Remus observed. "That's probably where they got it."

Lily was suspicious that Remus did not seem nearly as concerned as she was about this bizarre situation, but she let it slide, shaking her head as she pocketed the flashlight.

The strange incidents did not stop there. On Wednesday, Lily found out from Professor McGonagall that the muggle artefacts closet on the first floor had indeed been stolen from, raided, in fact, overnight, and many of the items were missing. Why anybody would raid the muggle artefacts closet, Lily had no idea, and neither did Professor McGonagall, who looked equally dumbstruck as she informed Lily and James. James suggested in amusement that perhaps someone was just _really that concerned_ about failing their Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.S. McGonagall did not even tell him off, too mystified to rule out any hypotheses of who did it, however ludicrous.

But things only escalated from there: On Thursday, Marlene reported back to the common room after class in stitches. Lily could hardly understand a word she was saying through all the giggling as she informed her and Kat that a number of Slytherins had tried to sneak their way into her Muggle Studies class and the Professor had to admonish them in front of everyone—'Really, how utterly ludicrous, I've never seen anything _quite_ like this!' were the Professor's exact, spluttering words—and kick them all out. One girl, Marlene said, bursting into fresh peals of laughter, was quite literally sobbing as her house mates dragged her out of class.

"Oh," Marlene said, trying to catch her breath, clutching at her sides, "Oh, you should've seen her face. She was devastated, kept talking about how she just _had_ to stay for the television demonstration, or she'd _die_."

Marlene could not continue with her story as she threw her head back and laughed some more, falling onto the sofa.

"What is going _on_?" Kat said, bewildered, but laughing a little at how gleeful Marlene was. "First the raid, now this—why are all the Slytherins obsessed with Muggle Studies all of a sudden?"

"Not Muggle Studies," Lily said, realization striking. "Muggle _things_. Your watch, remember?"

"Well what the actual fuck, was that supposed to help this make sense?"

The straw that broke the camel's back was Friday dinner, which was also the day Dumbledore finally decided to intervene in this debacle. The food had arrived and gone, and everyone was diving into dessert, the air filling with chatter and mirth that always seemed to follow confectionery.

"Things seemed to have calmed down," Kat muttered, eyeing the Slytherin table at the other end of the Great Hall. "Finally. How weird."

Marlene hummed in agreement, shaking her foot impatiently as she waited for another student two seats down to finish cutting up a piece of the chocolate cake she wanted.

Lily was about to comment on what Professor McGonagall's working theory was but before she could, a sudden hush fell over the Great Hall. She whirled around and saw that the Slytherin table had gone completely silent, all of them staring straight at her.

"What the …?"

"Oh," Marlene breathed, grabbing Lily' arm. Lily followed her petrified gaze, which was fixed on Sirius Black, who in turn was looking guiltily from one blank Gryffindor face to another. In his hand, he was holding what took Lily a few seconds to identity because of the sheer preposterousness of it—a rubber duck. The silence was deafening now, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables also having caught on to the fact that something utterly bizarre was going on.

Sirius blinked innocently a few times and then gave the duck a deliberate squeeze.

What followed could only be described as utter pandemonium of apocalyptic proportions. There was a sudden and massive stampede of frenzied students coming from the direction of the Slytherins. Lily could not believe her eyes: They seemed to be in an awful rush to get to the Gryffindor table, students yelling and jostling one another in their attempt to do so. The older Slytherins were shouting and pushing the younger ones aside, shoving them under the table and toppling them over like dominos. Two students were in tears, screaming as they crawled between the legs of the taller ones.

"Must … have … it," one of them gasped, squirming on the floor.

The students at the rest of the house tables had jumped to their feet in alarm like a swarm of rats had been released onto the floor, the Great Hall exploding in total chaos. Lily had gotten to her feet too, looking about wildly for some inkling of what was happening. Sirius had shoved the rubber duck out of sight, his eyes wide. James had begun signaling at the teacher's table to do something, while also trying very hard to contain his laughter.

Even Marlene and Kat were laughing at the sheer ludicrousness of the entire situation, and Lily wondered wildly if they'd finally broken. She looked back at the Slytherins and caught Snape's eye, plastered as he was against the wall, looking like he was going to be sick. She realized his was resisting whatever spell the rest of his housemates were under, fighting back the powerful magic that was pulling him toward the Gryffindor table along with the other Slytherins.

Lily had to admit, watching him struggle in that one, sweet, moment, gave her an intense sense of satisfaction.

"ENOUGH."

Dumbledore was standing up at the front of the hall, his wand out as he surveyed the chaos before him. The Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors quieted down, but the Slytherins continued to struggle. Professor Slughorn hurried over to them, waving his arms frantically, casting spells one after the other in an attempt to contain the hysteria. Slowly as the spells took effect, students started drop like flies, slumping against walls or leaning against tables, exhausted. A few of the smaller ones continued to struggle and cry but were held back by the older students who had come to their senses. The seventh-year Slytherins, still disoriented, had gathered their wits enough to glare daggers periodically at the Gryffindors.

"It seems," Dumbledore said calmly, "That mischief has been afoot. Someone has bewitched their fellow students out of—ah—a misguided sense of humor, I would imagine."

Here, Dumbledore looked straight at the Marauders with a gaze so discerning that the four boys immediately ducked their heads. Dumbledore looked at them for a few seconds longer, appraising, before he continued to address the Great Hall.

"All those not in Slytherin House must return to their respective dormitories immediately. Prefects, please see to it that students exit in an orderly fashion. Madam Pomfrey will need to take a look at the remaining students before they can leave."

Lily jumped into action, signaling to house prefects to take over for their own houses.

"Damn it, that cost us dessert," Lily overheard a Hufflepuff student complain as he walked by.

"Worth it," his friend quipped back.

* * *

"POTTER."

James shot up in his seat, still smiling giddily, albeit now with a tinge of guilt. Sirius continued dancing manically on the table, grabbing the hand of some star-struck fifth-year girl and pulling her onto the table to dance with him. Peter was gleefully shooting sparks out of the tip of his wand. People were still chuckling about the events of the night, the collective morale of Gryffindor House raised substantially by the Slytherins' humiliation. Spirits high, the common room had become an impromptu party, students dancing and singing off-key, passing around butterbeer that Sirius had inexplicably "found" and brought out for everyone to share. There was laughter and merriment aplenty to go around, detracted only by the furious 17-year-old Head Girl storming their way.

On the sofa, Remus sucked in his breath next to James, trying to will himself into sobriety and preparing for the worst. James took another swig of butterbeer, unruffled.

Sure enough, she was stalking over, hair flying out behind her, eyes glinting.

"You're in for it," Remus hiccupped, but he was grinning in response to James's infection grin, both still abuzz from the leftover adrenaline of having pulled of an epic prank. James waived away his concern.

"I'm sure she'll be a sport about it."

Lily did not break stride for even a second until she was face to face with James, dodging stray limbs, confetti, and empty bottles before finally standing in front of him with her hands clenched in fists beside her. He looked up at her, his party hat sliding off the top of his messy hair, and grinned obnoxiously.

"Hallo, love."

Remus shrunk in his seat, smile disappearing.

"You," she said, pulling out her wand and jabbing it right into James's chest, making him cough and jump. "_You_. You did this, didn't you?"

"Dunno what you're talking about," James said with convincing innocence.

Lily just growled, burrowing her wand further into his chest.

"Ow," James protested.

"Tell me the truth," Lily said with scary calm. "You spiked the Slytherins' drinks. You and your friends."

"I don't know what you're talking about," James repeated easily.

Lily glared at him. She lowered her wand, her expression becoming colder, and crossed her arms. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

James looked thoughtful for a second. "Yeah, a little."

Lily continued staring coldly at him. "You could've really hurt somebody."

"But I didn't," James pointed out. Remus started inching away, sensing the beginnings of a feud. The rest of the common room quieted down a little, also sensing the tension.

"And what was the point of all of that? To be funny?"

"It _was_ funny," James said pointedly. "You know, because they hate muggles. I'm sorry—was the joke not clear enough …?"

"The joke was clear, alright," Lily snapped. "But it wasn't funny. You think it's something to laugh about? You think muggles are a joke, a tool to humiliate people? Slytherins liking muggles, hilarious, right, let's all have a great big laugh about it."

James let out a frustrated sigh. "That's clearly not what I meant."

"Sure."

"See," James continued, his anger starting to show, "I'm just starting to think you always assume the worst about me, and you know, I'm fine with that, but I'd like if you didn't _yell_ at me every time it tickled your fancy."

Lily just snorted. "Way to make it about _you_. Is it that difficult for you to wrap your thick skull around the idea that you're just wrong?"

"Hard to believe that, everyone here seems to have found it funny except for you," James retorted. "Watch—Oi, Marlene. That was funny, wasn't it?"

Marlene, who was chortling next to Peter, looked up at hearing her name. Sirius and the girl stopped dancing on the table, the last of the merriment dying down. Marlene looked from James to Lily, assessing the situation.

"What now?" She asked warily.

James got to his feet, crossing his arms as well as he glared down at Lily. "The prank. It was funny, wasn't it? Because Evans doesn't think so. She thinks, as always, that I'm an ass and this was all some sort of a self-congratulatory scheme."

Marlene stood up, frowning slight. Lily caught her eye, and Marlene held her gaze for a few seconds. Then she turned to James.

"Sure, but, I have to agree with Lily," Marlene said calmly. "It was sort of tacky."

Lily smirked to herself, grateful that even though she and Marlene were fighting, she could count on her best friend to have her back.

James snorted in disbelief. "And yet, everyone else seems to have enjoyed themselves. Whatever, Evans. At least I'm doing something about the Death Eaters instead of sitting on my hands like a fucking coward."

"Excuse me?" Lily asked incredulously, raising her voice.

"Hey," Marlene said sharply, stepping in between them. "James, get off your high horse and go take a walk. You can't speak to Lily like that."

"But she can call me whatever she damn well pleases whenever it suits her fancy, is that right?" James replied coldly. "Like I said, whatever. Party's over anyway. Hope you're happy, Evans."

"Fuck off," Lily spat at him, but he had already turned away and was storming to the boy's dormitory, throwing his ridiculous party hat across the hall as he went. Lily started forward angrily as if to give him a piece of her mind, but Marlene grabbed her arm warningly, and she backed down. A wave of murmurs rippled across the common room as people began to wrap up the festivities.

"Figures," Sirius muttered, jumping off the table. "Leave it to Evans and Prongs to ruin a perfectly pleasant evening."

Remus sighed, which was followed by a hiccup. "It'll get worse before it gets better."

"If it gets better," Peter observed, watching Marlene and Lily walk to the girl's dormitory, heads bowed as Marlene spoke to Lily in soothing tones. "Which, I mean. It's been a downward spiral ever since fourth year, so."

"This row was sort of our fault though," Remus winced. "Maybe we took the Amortentia prank a little too far?"

"Nonsense," Peter said easily, his conscience clearly not as clamorous as Remus's.

"Eh, maybe. But it was worth it," Sirius grinned, pulling out the rubber duck from his pocket and giving it a squeeze. He burst out into his signature bark-like laughter.


	11. September 1977: Padfoot tries to help

**SEPTEMBER 19, 1977**

* * *

Remus wasn't sure whose glower had more oomph to it, but either way the Head Boy and Head Girl were throwing each other looks so frigid that Remus thought he'd freeze over if he made direct eye contact with either. Lily stood on one end of the room, arms crossed and back against the wall, glaring murderously at James through the red bangs that had escaped her ponytail. James looked just as irate in his own right. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his tapping foot exuding a nervous sort of energy. His lips were pursed into a thin line, quite in contrast to his usual wide, toothy smile.

Remus was just relieved there would be other people in the room soon. Keeping the peace between Lily and James was a full-time job when there was nobody for them to make an effort for. But to the prefects, the two needed to show a united front. These were dark times, and the school needed a strong and consistent voice from its leaders, not a fractured and bickering one.

This time, it was James breaking it to Lily that Quidditch practice coincided with her prefect night duty schedule right before the prefect meeting. Lily was not taking it well. The most banal of things sparked a raging fire between them.

Lily frowned. "We haven't even had tryouts yet."

"I wanted to get the team back on the field as early as possible," James said. "So I scheduled tryouts for this week."

"We didn't discuss this," Lily said flatly.

"I figured as, you know, the Quidditch Captain, I may have some authority on this decision," James said sarcastically.

"And as Head Boy perhaps you should keep me in the loop so I don't have to redo schedules on the fly," Lily snapped back, pealing herself off the wall and taking a threatening step toward him. He bristled and took a retaliatory step back. The two glowered at each other.

"We can just find someone to switch," Remus pointed out reasonably. But getting to a resolution did not seem to be the purpose of this exchange. His statement went unacknowledged.

"You know, you could just _tell_ me when you're not happy with how I'm doing things instead of, you know, being a dick."

"I shouldn't have to _tell_ you to do your damn job."

"I do do my job, in case you didn't notice, But if you think I'm doing it so _shoddily_ then how about you just take care of it next time."

"Oh, like practically everything else that has to do with Head duties?"

"Guys," Remus attempted to interject. It didn't work.

"Are you serious?" James asked incredulously, waving his arms around in exasperation. "You think _you_ do everything? Who got us this room in the first place, eh?"

"What do you want, a cookie for holding up your end of the bargain?" Lily asked coolly, crossing her arms again. "Might I add you really pushed the deadline there, you had a week to do it and you didn't until two days ago. Who knows what the hell you were doing with your time the five days before that."

"I had Quidditch Captain stuff to do," James snapped, "I have other commitments, you know, my life doesn't revolve around this damn job—"

Lily laughed coldly, "Of course, why would James Potter sincerely dedicate himself to the most important responsibility of his school career, what a ridiculous notion."

"The prefects are waiting inside," Remus said tiredly. "Please, you two, just … stop."

Admittedly, neither of them were truly at fault because as with most things, it was a failure to communicate. Lily was not wrong to be frustrated with James's missteps on the job—specifically, why he was so bad at keeping her in the loop. And in all honesty, James had been juggling a lot on his plate the last two weeks. His Quidditch Captain duties kept him occupied when he wasn't studying for NEWTS or being Head Boy, but it was really his father's slow deterioration over the summer that kept looming over him, pushing him further and further into a desperate need to keep himself distracted so that he didn't collapse into himself.

It was apparent on his face—his eyes looked tired, his shoulders hunched. But Lily wasn't fairing much better either. As Voldemort rose to power and his rhetoric started convincing students at Hogwarts, the halls of the school were starting to become as unsafe as the world outside. A darkness was coming. And as a muggleborn woman, Lily faced that darkness every day, never knowing when it would finally consume her and her loved ones. She was a fighter, but even the strong can bruise.

But somehow, even if both of them could appreciate the other's predicament, neither of them seemed to want to put down their swords. It was as if it was a game of who would cave first. And in that desire to win, they both found the strength and vigor to keep up the façade of being perfectly fine as usual. But it wasn't a healthy way to do it.

Moreover, James seemed to be cracking. He looked slightly wounded as he said, "I _am_ taking this seriously. I'm doing the best I can."

"I need you to do better," Lily said quietly. Something about the way she said it seemed to have penetrated the angry fog and James suddenly went solemn and quiet, like he was listening very carefully to something. He looked at her in a peculiar way.

His posture straightened, and he looked more resolute. "Okay," he said simply.

"Okay," she said back.

"Okay," Remus quietly parroted, relieved that the storm seemed to have abated for now. They would make it through another day.

Lily and James took a moment to compose themselves. Lily ran a hand over her face, pushing her bangs out of her eyes in the process. James ran a hand through his messy hair. She took a deep breath and walked to the door. Arranging her features into the usual quiet confidence that was so characteristic of her, she nodded to James. He nodded back.

"Let's get this over with," she muttered, and swung the door open.

"How long do you reckon they'll last this time?"

Remus turned to look at the bushy-haired Ravenclaw prefect who had appeared at the door next to him.

Remus looked at Lily and James. "They'll be okay today."

Joyce Jefferson looked doubtful as she walked with Remus to their seats.

James' eyes roved over the bobbling heads in front of him, silently counting off the prefects in the room. Satisfied, he said, "Alright everyone. Looks like we're all here, let's get started, shall we?"

Lily dusted her skirt and walked gracefully to the podium at the front of the room.

"Good evening, and welcome to the third prefect meeting of the year. I hope everyone is well?" Lily spoke loudly but pleasantly, and Remus marveled at how she was able to glide in and out of demeanors so quickly. The prefects mumbled their responses. Satisfied that there was a general positive response, Lily looked down at her notes and continued.

"Thanks for showing up on short notice, we ran into a little hiccup trying to get a room for us but the Headmaster has assured us that we will have this room every Monday evening. So, we won't be sending out any more updates, just come to this room next Monday at this time and every Monday after. We want to make this a regular part of everyone's schedule."

Lily paused to look at her notes again. "First order of business. Night duty assignments. We have the schedule ready for you but there's a conflict for Tuesday night. Would anybody like to volunteer to switch?"

**SEPTEMBER 20, 1977**

* * *

"How do we even let second-years play? That one looks like a good bludger to the face and she'd kick the bucket."

Marlene looked at Sirius reproachfully. "Stop killing off potential teammates. It's bad luck."

Everything that wasn't in their favor was bad luck with Marlene when it came to Quidditch.

"Come off it," Sirius rolled his eyes. "You're not honestly thinking _that_ kid is going to replace Wilhelmina Wilder or Adam, do you?"

As if she heard Sirius, the second-year glanced nervously at him and Marlene, who were lounging on the bleachers and brazenly sizing up the pool of students trying out. When she saw Sirius was looking pointedly back at her, she hurriedly turned her gaze to the front of the crowd where James Potter was hovering on his broomstick, looking down at them grimly. He looked impressive and daunting with all six feet of him decked out in full Quidditch gear—knee and elbows pads and the likes—that he most definitely wore for appearances rather than need.

Adam hummed appreciatively behind Marlene at the compliment from Sirius. Marlene sighed. "I miss Wilder. Damn good chaser. I heard she's with the Chudley Cannons now. And don't talk to me about Adam, he's a traitor."

Adam just grinned. He'd decided not to return as keeper this year amid loud and aggressive protests from the rest of his teammates. "Did you forget until just now that we were not supposed to be on speaking terms?"

"Shut up," Marlene said simply. Sirius shushed both of them and nudged Marlene as James cleared his throat. It looked like they were going to get started.

"Quidditch," James said solemnly, "Is more than just a sport."

Sirius and Marlene groaned loudly in unison from the bleachers. If James heard them, he ignored it and continued.

"Every match is more than just one game. Every win is more than just a few points. As you stand here considering whether to wed your life to this sport and this team, I want you to reflect on what made you pick up your first broomstick, what inclination brought you to the pitch today, and how much Quidditch really means to you."

Sirius suppressed the urge to heckle his best friend. James gave this speech last year too, when he first became captain, and needless to say his team remained unimpressed by it.

"Oh good, he's just started on his Quidditch Is Life speech, I have time to go back to the castle and grab a bite," Salma Bazzi said cheerfully as she appeared in the bleachers behind Sirius.

"Where were you?" Marlene demanded.

"Sleeping," Salma admitted sheepishly. "You know how it is, all the profs keep talking about O.W.L.S. and it stresses me out—just hearing about it, mind you, I haven't done a shred of work—and stress just makes me sleepy."

Marlene hummed in agreement and sympathy.

"Although," Salma said ruefully, looking toward the pitch, "Potter's speech is a close second. I might catch a few Zs right here."

"I think he stresses too much on the marriage analogy, otherwise it wouldn't be so shabby. I definitely felt some butterflies last year when he said that bit about 'eternal glory,'" Marlene admitted. She paused thoughtfully, and then said with a snort and an elbow jab at Sirius, "Although I _was_ smashed last year after you gave me some of your Firewhiskey, so maybe it was just that."

Sirius groaned again, this time at this year's forced sobriety thanks to James's inexplicable newfound commitment to being more responsible. Sirius had waggled his eyebrows and flashed his flask at James in the dormitory before they left for the pitch only to have James turn as red as a tomato and pounce on Sirius trying to pry it away. Remus had just laughed, his expression reading _serves you right_, which didn't help Sirius's mood.

"Shouldn't you lot be out there with them?" Adam asked from behind Marlene. "I mean, you're technically trying out too."

"Prongs isn't taking it _that_ seriously," Sirius waved away the concern confidently.

"ETERNAL GLORY!" James roared at the flinching Gryffindors geared up in full Quidditch outfits and shivering slightly at the early evening chill, teeth chattering against their mouth guards like a chorus of clams.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Marlene said glumly, watching James pace mid-air on his broom like a general rallying his troops for war.

Sirius snorted. "You're not actually worried, are you?"

Marlene shrugged. "I had a hand injury over summer, I dunno if my wrist has the same kind of flexibility to it. You know what James says, 'A busted wrist—'"

She looked at them to expectantly finish the sentence. Sirius, Adam and Salma stared at her blankly.

"—means a goalpost missed,'" Marlene finished. "Blimey, am I the only one he says that to?"

"I've gotten proverbs about my forearms," Salma said thoughtfully, while at the same time Sirius said, "He likes to talk about my core more than I'm comfortable with."

"It's okay," Adam said, trying to assuage them. "All Quidditch captains are little bit mad."

Another half hour flew by and Salma had finished off the scones she'd fetched from her rendezvous at the kitchen before James finally beckoned the veteran Quidditch players off the bench. Slightly miffed at sitting on the hard bleachers for close to an hour, Marlene, Sirius and Salma trudged over to the horde of nervous Gryffindors who all looked distinctly relieved that James had finally wrapped up.

"Folks, this is Sirius Black—beater, Marlene McKinnon—chaser and Salma Bazzi—seeker, of last year's team," James said pointing at each in turn. Everyone already knew who they were, but the three veterans saluted at the crowd anyway.

"They will be helping me test you, but they're also trying to win back their spots on the team. Back there on the bleachers is Adam Winchester, '76-'77 Gryffindor keeper. He's not trying out, but he'll be defending the posts. Bazzi, McKinnon, and Black will play on Winchester's team. I am going to stay here and call in subs. We'll keep playing until every has had their opportunity to try out. Are we clear?"

They nodded in unison. Marlene, Sirius and Salma mounted their brooms and took off toward their positions on the pitch. Adam was already at the far goalpost, adjusting his guards.

"Okay," James said. "I've got your names and the positions you are trying out for right here." James smoothed a piece of parchment he had pulled out of his pocket. "Er … Parks, Abbot, Seymour, Headley. On my whistle."

If Marlene was worried about making it back on the team before, by the time they were five minutes into tryouts not only had her doubts vanished, but they were replaced with the new concern that James may just tie her to her broom and put her under an _imperius_ curse if she told him she wasn't going to play.

The tryouts were as close to disaster as possible. Forty minutes in, half the Gryffindors were sitting on the bleachers injured from flying into goalposts or dropping the quaffle on each other, and the other half was only just managing to dodge Sirius's rapid bludgers. Salma had caught and released the snitch at least eight times, and James had eventually relegated her to chaser duty so that the game didn't have to keep ending before any of the tryout chasers had had a chance to score. Eventually, they found themselves a beater—an angry-looking fifth-year with bright red lipstick, perfectly done eyes and large arms named Reese Harper. Focusing now on the keeper and chaser positions, James swore in frustration and blew the whistle just as a fourth-year student dropped the quaffle that Marlene tossed at him from a foot away. It landed with a thud from its fall fifty feet above the ground.

James had stopped hiding his gloom by the time the Gryffindors, huffing and red in the face, filed past him and headed back toward the castle.

Remus and Peter were already in the common room, curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, when James, Sirius and Marlene came back to the castle.

"How were try-y—erm," Remus stammered as Sirius, standing behind James, frantically motioned for Remus to shut up. James fell into the armchair adjacent to the fire, glowering darkly at the flames and slouching down until his chin rested resolutely on his chest.

"You know what, I forgot what I was going to ask," Remus finished unconvincingly. Sirius threw himself down on the couch next to Remus. Marlene hovered behind him, looking sullen and tired.

Peter turned to Sirius, scooting closer to whisper, "Was it that bad?"

Sirius glanced furtively at James and said under his breath, "I think he's going to try to drown himself."

"I can hear you, you know," James said gloomily.

"Come on, cheer up," Marlene said bracingly. "We found a keeper and a beater, didn't we? That Seymour kid was decent."

"Yeah, and Reese Harper even knocked that burly fifth-year boy unconscious with her bludger," Sirius added.

James just shrugged, looking surely. He did not seem like he wanted to talk to anybody at the moment. The rest of his friends exchanged knowing looks as he continued to stare into the fire.

"Better get going, erm, to the library," Remus said unconvincingly, shutting the book on his lap closed hastily.

"I'll come with you," Peter said, scrambling to his feet.

"I'm going to go hit the showers," Marlene muttered, picking at some lose threads on her Quidditch robes.

Sirius didn't bother to give an excuse, but merely threw a cursory look of sympathy toward James before he got up to follow Marlene. As the crowd around the fire dispersed and James's friends began to scatter, one figure walked against the current, toward James.

"Potter?" Lily called, a parchment in her hand and a quill tucked neatly behind her ear as she made her way to where he was sitting. "Do you have a minute?"

"Should we do something? Warn her?" Marlene muttered apprehensively to Sirius as they made their way up the stairs leading to the dormitories.

Sirius glanced back at where James was sitting. "Nah, just pretend we never heard her coming. Plausible deniability."

Lily, meanwhile, oblivious to James's dark mood, held out the parchment in her hand for him to take as she stood before him. He looked at her warily from the armchair he was slouching in but eventually took the parchment to inspect it closer.

"Dumbledore gave it to me at dinner," Lily clarified. "It's a list of employers who agreed to come to the Career Fair. It's close to the final count, so we have an idea of logistics. We need to have a meeting with the prefects who volunteered to help so we can divvy up responsibilities."

One of the seventh-year prefects had come with the idea of hosting a career fair at Hogwarts the first week back, and the rest of the prefects had enthusiastically echoed the idea. Dumbledore had approved it almost immediately, beaming at James and Lily as they explained what they were hoping to put together in the span of five weeks. Now in week three, the ball had started rolling faster. A large number of employers had responded positively to the fair, eager to market themselves to apprehensive seventh-years trying to figure out what they wanted to do post-Hogwarts.

"Yeah, okay," James grumbled, holding out the paper back to her. She took it. He rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm free tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow is no good, it's when I tutor those fifth-years," Lily said. "What about Thursday?"

"Patrol," James grunted.

"Can't you switch?" Lily asked. "Just for the week?"

A look of frustration flittered over James's face. "Can't _you_?"

"The O.W.L. students have no other day in the week when they're all available," Lily replied calmly. She did not seem to be angry at James's surely tone, instead cocking her head at him with a look of curiosity.

"Fine," James relented with a shrug, turning his face away to look at the fire again.

Lily sat gingerly down on the couch next to the armchair, eyes fixed on James. "Er. Is everything okay?"

James glanced at her with surprise, but did not smile, instead just shrugging again and turning away.

Lily bit back a smile, amused by the pouting. She continued sitting next to him patiently, surveying her fingernails and humming very quietly under her breath.

James gave her another cursory look, frowning, but it was without anger. He wasn't sure why she was talking to him, but he did not have the heart to tell her to bugger off as he may have told Sirius or Remus or Peter.

"It's been a hard week," James offered eventually.

"The week has hardly begun," Lily pointed out. He had heard contempt in her voice enough to know that she didn't mean it contemptuously.

"A hard Tuesday. A hard month. Months? Dunno. I shouldn't complain," James added the last bit with an embarrassed wince. Lily Evans didn't need to hear the trivial woes and worries of James Potter's life.

"Is it Quidditch?" Lily persisted.

"It was a godawful tryout," James said, half-amused and half-morose. "Nah, the team will be fine."

He paused. "I'm fine," he added lamely, trying to reassure her. He felt uncomfortable by her attentiveness and her earnest desire to know what was bothering him. It was oddly nerve-wracking to talk to her like this, knowing that this was not the norm, that at any moment their rapport could go south and they'd be back at each other's throats again.

But Lily did not look at all like she wanted to fight. Instead, she looked at him thoughtfully, as if she was mentally debating something. Eventually, she leaned forward and saying in a low, careful voice, "Is it your father?"

"No," James said quickly, eager to stay away from that topic as far as possible. He knew if he went there, he would spiral, and likely wouldn't resurface for a long time. His grip on reality was precarious at best. He needed to stay focused. He ran a hand through his hair absently.

His face must have betrayed something, because Lily's eyes widened and she withdrew her proximity, biting her lip. "I'm sorry—"

"—It's fine," James told her tiredly, albeit with a smile. "It's … I mean yes, it's always that, to some extent, it's never not that. But really, I guess, I dunno, I'm just swamped? This Head Boy shindig is … a lot."

"Amen," Lily agreed vehemently. "If I have to walk one more first-year to the infirmary, I swear next time I'll make sure I'm the reason they have to go at all."

"_Thank_ you," James said emphatically, rolling his eyes, "I know they're young and wholesome and all, but honestly you'd think a child of eleven years could go one week without getting stuck in a toilet or 'accidentally' getting lost in the restricted section—"

"—I had a student yesterday come to me covered in bird shit because he couldn't get out of the owlery," Lily snorted. "I think his owl scratched his eyelid and he was hobbling around in there for an hour. An _hour_. It's a circular room with _two_ entrances."

Lily was cut off abruptly when James suddenly threw his head back and laughed. She stared at him for two seconds, startled, but once she recovered, Lily couldn't help the grin that spread across her own face. She had never noticed before just how wholeheartedly James laughed, his shoulders shaking and his eyes dancing merrily. Lily couldn't help but join in.

"And the worst part," Lily said in between bouts of laughter, "Was that in the midst of partial blindness he gave his letter to the wrong owl and when I asked him if that was a problem he told me he'd written to his mother about a rash on his bum and he wasn't sure whose owl it was, so I imagine some unsuspecting individual may or may not be getting a detailed account of an eleven-year-old kid's bum rash."

James was clutching his sides as he continued laughing, and it took him a few moments to collect himself. He wiped a tear from his eye, chuckling intermittently. "You're killing me, Evans."

The corners of Lily's lips started to curl upwards. "I'm a hoot, one might say."

James snorted with amusement. "One might," he said.

Lily was smiling at him now, a genuine smile that went straight to her emerald eyes, a smile that he'd rarely seen cast in his direction, and it sent a jolt down his spine.

"Potter—" she began.

She was interrupted by a girl's voice from the distance. "James!"

James tore his eyes away from Lily and looked behind her, landing on the quickly approaching figure. He sat upright abruptly, and so did Lily. It was a petite fifth-year Gryffindor girl that Lily had seen around, Quinn Rossi, and she was walking toward them as she separated from her gaggle of friends who'd walked into the common room just moment before, waiving brightly at James.

James made the effort to smile brightly at her as she neared, her soft brown hair swinging behind her back. She leaned down in front of him, her small palm on his jaw, and gave him a kiss straight on the lips. Lily, startled, looked away politely.

"How was practice? Have you had dinner?" Quinn asked breathlessly as she straightened, her hand drifting down until it settled into his.

James's eyes rapidly snapped to Lily's face and then back to Quinn's, "Practice was fine. And I think I'll eat in a bit, not just now."

"Oh, alright," Quinn said, her smile dropping a little into a pout. She also glanced in Lily's direction. "That's fine, if you have Head Boy work to do. I'm going to go get dinner with the girls, then, if that's alright?"

Lily jumped to her feet, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh, no, it's fine, we're done here."

"Well then you'll come with me?" Quinn turned back to James hopefully.

"'Course," James said back to her. It might have been Lily's imagination that his smile had lost some of its candor.

"I'll, erm," Lily cleared her throat, "I'll see you around, Potter?"

"Yeah," James responded, his eyes rising to meet hers. Lily turned away, suddenly feeling the intensity of his gaze and unable to hold it. She wiped her hands on her skirt, smiling apologetically at both of them and turned and walked away.

It wasn't so much that she was surprised that James had a girlfriend, just that he'd never really brought it up. He was free to date whoever he pleased, of course, though the last time he's had a proper one was Ronnie Elliott, in fifth-year, and that had ended just as dramatically as it had started. She supposed it was none of her business, and she didn't quite care for that matter. They were Head Boy and Head Girl, and that was it. They weren't _friends_.

Which was why it scared her that she had almost started to treat him like one.

**SEPTEMBER 21, 1977**

* * *

"Ever thought about having kids?"

Remus was accustomed to Peter's brash tactlessness to the point where he was numb to it and almost pitied the other boy, because no matter how many times Sirius kicked him in the tailbone Peter was never able to adopt a semblance of sensitivity.

"Yes Peter," Remus said patiently. "I have." Of course, he had. Being a werewolf challenged every aspect of life that others took for granted.

Peter grunted in response. Well aware that there was a deeper reason for this question and that he was the group's designated mother hen, Remus sighed and turned in his chair to look at Peter, who was sitting on his bed. "Why do you ask?"

Peter glanced casually at Remus, but his movements betrayed his nervous uncertainty. "Just wondering."

There was a pause. "Do you think I should ask Mary McDonald to Hogsmeade?"

Remus was caught off guard, but not surprised. He'd seen Peter get flustered around her, more so than he got flustered around other girls, anyway.

"You should," Remus replied pleasantly.

Peter looked relieved, and Remus marveled at how painfully dependent Peter was on his friends' validation. There was a reason he was asking Remus, and not Sirius or James. Sirius would laugh poor Peter out of the room like the git he was, and James would tease him—his way of being something akin to supportive. Neither of those were the reassurances Peter needed, and so he'd scurry to Remus at times like this, because Remus was reassuring and Remus wouldn't dare tell him the truth, if the truth was unpleasant.

To be entirely fair, nobody knew how Peter had made as part of their posse so far without cracking. Remus figured as a Gryffindor, there must be something redemptively brave about him, deep down.

"Think quick!"

A pumpkin pasty came spiraling through the air and hit Peter in the back of the head. This was followed by a boyish cackle at Peter's resentful squeal. A boy in sopping wet Quidditch robes walked into the dormitory in the most loud, obnoxious manner he possibly could, covered in dirt and sweat. Remus shut his book, knowing he wouldn't get any more work done that evening.

"Please stop throwing food around my bed," Remus said sternly as Sirius shrugged off his drenched robes. "And please wash those immediately. It really starts to stink in here you know."

Sirius looked positively offended, standing in a pool of wet mud. "My odor never bothered you before!"

"It did, and I've told you every time," Remus said, rolling his eyes. Sirius made a face, but he bundled up the wet garment and threw it into the boy's bathroom.

Peter took a bite into the pastry glumly. He got up from his perch at the edge of the bed. "I think I'm going to go to the library to study."

"Don't leave on my account," Sirius said, throwing himself onto his bed. Peter eyed Sirius sadly. There were just some things he didn't want to be teased about, and Sirius didn't seem to understand that. Peter had never felt properly self-assured, even among his closest friends, who had a kind of sense of security in who they were that meant no amount of teasing could truly throw them off their stride. James had been born and raised the king of the world. Sirius didn't care what anybody thought anyway. Remus, though he also struggled to stand up to the other two, had been outcast long enough that he at least didn't want to pretend to be what he wasn't. Peter was not like that. Peter was shy, he was not funny like James, or dashing like Sirius, or good at school like Remus. Which was not to say he didn't have talents—he was rather good at chess, and he was an excellent cook—he just didn't seem to have the confidence to own them.

Remus looked at Peter sympathetically. "We can talk more later?" Remus knew Peter had not fully unloaded all the baggage he wanted to.

"Yeah," Peter said with a meek smile. As he slouched out of the room, Sirius propped himself up on his bed, frowning at the closing door behind Peter. "What's up with him?"

"Nothing," Remus said tiredly, turning back to his book.

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine."

Sirius eyed Remus. He knew Remus like the back of his hand. "I meant with you. Is it though?"

"James and Lily were fighting," Remus eventually offered. "And Peter has a girl problem."

Sirius didn't say anything, flopping back onto his bed.

"And you're tired of fixing it."

Remus looked up from his book with surprise. Sirius was lying flat on his back on his bed, his head dangling off the side. He needed a haircut, Remus thought, his hair was reaching past his shoulders now. Although Remus kind of liked it that way.

Remus's hand went subconsciously up to his own brown locks. The tips of his hair liked to curl a little at the ends, like ruffled sheets at the nape of his neck. His hair wasn't as straight and feathery as Sirius's.

Hearing the normally cheeky and obnoxious Marauder spouting wisdom whilst dangling his head off the side of a couch reminded Remus that he was tragically good at underestimating Sirius.

"I suppose I am," Remus admitted quietly.

Sirius nodded sagely, the tips of his raven hair sashaying back and forth on the floor. "You have to stop that. Fixing other people."

Remus hated the way Sirius reduced solutions down to simply commands, as if it were that easy.

"I'm not … it's not on purpose," Remus said flatly. "With Peter, I mean, you and Prongs are really just _so _unhelpful, utter berks, who else is going to help him? And with James and Lily—I'm the only one of us who's friends with them both. And—"

"—And nothing," Sirius said sternly. It felt strange to be admonished by an upside-down face. "You know what's going to happen if you stop helping all these people?"

Remus furrowed his brows in question. Sirius rolled off the bed and sat down properly, pushing his hair out of his eyes and fixing Remus with an intent look. "Nothing. Nothing will happen. They will be _fine_."

Sirius waved his hands around, but Remus was not sure what he was trying to convey with his enthusiastic gestures. "Peter? He'll ask Mary out. Or he won't. Either way. _You_ can't do that for him, he's gotta do that for himself. You think if you don't help him today, he's going to be celibate forever? Please. He's a Gryffindor, he'll find the balls. And Prongs and Evans? God, they've been at it since fourth year, what makes you think you're going to change that now? They're at their best when they're ripping each other apart."

Sirius leaned forward. "Besides, who's taking care of you?"

"You, I suppose," Remus snorted half-jokingly. But only half. The other half was true. "Fat lot of help that does me. Can't you pitch in?"

"Pitch in?"

"You know, help Peter out a bit? Talk to James?"

Sirius made a face. "Peter doesn't want my help. And Prongs won't listen."

"Wormtail doesn't want your _ridicule_. And if James doesn't listen to you, he isn't going to listen to anybody, and then I'll stop trying."

Sirius sighed again, searching Remus's face with intent eyes. It was hard to deny Remus when he was asking so earnest. Sirius relented with a huff. "Fine. Fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you. Now please take a shower before I drown you in the Great Lake."

**SEPTEMBER 24, 1977**

* * *

"I should've worn my bow tie."

Sirius rocked impatiently on his heels, hunching his shoulders so that his neck would nestle deeper into his scarf. The winter season was not upon them yet but there was still a biting chill in the air. This was not how Sirius had planned to spend a Saturday afternoon. "No. You most definitely dodged a bullet there."

Peter didn't seem to buy it. He was fidgeting with the leather jacket he had on, which was a tad tight on him and maybe a little long, but really Sirius figured none of that mattered with Peter's fluffy pink mittens stealing the limelight. He did clean up well though. He had a round, eternally boyish face that only benefited from the golden hair and deep blue eyes. The cold brought out the pink in his cheeks.

"Don't fidget with the jacket," Sirius instructed. It was his favorite jacket. He figured if he was going to help Peter get a date he might as well go all out with it.

A loud laugh escaped the group of girls congregating by the lake. Sirius had no idea why they had decided to convene outside in this weather. They were all crouching by the lake though, pointing at something that hovered under the surface of the water a few feet away.

"She looks busy, let's go," Peter said quickly, abruptly turning on his heel. Sirius reached out and pulled him back by the back of the leather jacket, making Peter squawk.

"You're not going anywhere," Sirius said sternly as Peter squirmed in his grasp. "Look, it's now or never. You want a date? You gotta ask, she can't read your mind Wormtail. It's now or never."

"Really?" Peter asked nervously.

"No, but I'm not lending you that jacket again and tough luck getting a date without it," Sirius said. He clapped Peter on the back. "So. Here's how it's going to go. You're going to go up to her. You're going to be confident and cool. And you're going to look her in the eye and say, 'Have you heard of Platform 9 and 3/4? Because—

"—I can think of something else with the exact same measurements," Peter finished glumly.

James and Adam burst out into raucous laughter, startling a gaggle of first-years sitting in the table next to the couch. The fire crackled mirthfully in front of them, almost as if it was chuckling in harmony.

"Jesus, no wonder she threw a snowball at your face," James said in between bouts of giggles, wiping his eyes. Adam clutched his side, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Peter looked downright miserable as he dusted remnants of dirt and snow from his hair. Remus sympathetically rubbed his arm from his perch next to Wormtail, turning periodically to throw Sirius a discontent look. Sirius, for his part, looked unworried as he surveyed his fingernails, lounging gracefully on the armchair next to Peter and Remus.

"She knows you like her now though," Sirius observed.

"There are better ways to go about that," Remus said flatly. Sirius shrugged, oblivious to the vibe Remus was putting out.

"She did tell me to come up with something better next time," Peter conceded reluctantly.

"Exactly. So, there's a next time."

"Not under _your_ tutelage," Remus muttered. Sirius heard him and made a face.

James, having recovered from his fit of laughter, said, "Padfoot, I don't know how that works for you, but the rest of us who aren't blessed with your genes have to resort to less creepy methods of courting women."

"Says the bloke who's been stalking Lily Evans since fourth year."

"And we saw how that worked out," Adam pointed out wisely.

James suddenly looked very thoughtful, staring into the fire as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Yeah. That train left the station a long time ago."

"Lord," Adam said before bursting out into fresh laughter.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Peter sighed glumly. Sirius looked almost annoyed and opened his mouth to respond, but Remus's penetrating glare quickly made him close it.

James had snapped out of his trance and now turned solemnly to look at Peter. "Look, mate, you like Mary, right?"

Peter nodded.

"You have to show her you like _her_, you know? You have to get to know her, and let her get to know you. You want something meaningful, not a romp in the closet. Find out what she likes, make her laugh, help her with Transfiguration, you're good at that. Be her friend," James explained patiently.

Remus, Sirius, and Adam turned to look at James in unison, eyebrows raised. They all looked impressed.

"That's right," Remus said in surprise.

"When did you become so perceptive?" Sirius asked, sounding almost accusatory. "You couldn't woo a girl if she slapped you in the face with a copy of _Pickwick's Valentine's Pick-up Lines_."

"When I stopped listening to _you_, you big twit." This was accompanied by a cushion flying straight into Sirius's face, whacking him in the nose.

Sirius lowered the cushion, looking solemn. "Fair enough."

"I can do that," Peter said, his face brightening. "She likes playing chess. I could ask her if she wants to practice with me? She also really likes those mint-flavored chocolates from Honeydukes, maybe I can get her those."

"Good cop, bad cop," Sirius nodded approvingly.

"Why is everything such a mind game with you," Remus asked Sirius with a sigh.

"I was joking," Sirius rolled his eyes. He contorted his body to look at Peter, his hair falling gracefully into his grey eyes. "Prongs is right. And that sounds like a good plan, mate."

Peter looked significantly less morose. He hopped off the couch, rejuvenated. "I'm going to go find my chess set. I brought it with me, it's somewhere in my trunk."

Remus watched him jog to the stairs that led to the boys' dormitory. As he disappeared around the corner, he turned to Sirius. "I am never asking you to help again."

"It was my duty to make sure he tried," Sirius insisted.

"Here, here," James said, also getting up. He stretched languidly, extending his long arms up to the ceiling and yawning. "Speaking of, I have night patrol duty in ten."

"I'll walk you," Sirius offered. "I'm hungry anyway, I thought I'd nip by the kitchens."

Remus continued watching Sirius, who ignored him as he hopped out of his seat.

"I'll meet you at the stairs," James said, rummaging his robes for his wand as he slowly started making his way to the Portrait Hole.

"I'll see you lot later too," Adam said, "Don't get Pete into too much trouble."

Sirius winked at Adam as he left. Now alone with him, Remus leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms and fixing Sirius with a stern look. Sirius looked back at him innocently.

"Listen," Sirius said amicably, "You asked for my help. I'm sorry but I did what I could with the expertise I have, yeah?"

"Does that really work for you?" Remus asked dubiously. "Heckling girls like that?"

"No," Sirius admitted. "But I'm not interested in them anyway."

Remus made a noise of disbelief, but the way Sirius was looking at him with meaningful intensity did not indicate he was joking. Remus caught his eye briefly before turning away, his cheeks deepening in color just slightly. He lowered his head and fidgeted in his seat. Sirius cleared his throat, suddenly taking an interest in the color of the ceiling.

Eventually, Remus spoke, his voice quieter. "Are you going to talk to Prongs as well?" he asked.

"I said I would. That's the plan," Sirius said, shrugging. "I reckon I'll fair better there."

"Here's to hoping."

"Can't you two just snog already?" Sirius asked.

Sirius wasn't usually in the habit of patrolling the halls with James on his prefect duty, but there was really no better time to catch James by himself, and James didn't seem to mind. Prefect duty was usually pretty uneventful, but there had been one too many incidents of students being jumped by other students to risk not having prefects stationed around the castle at night.

James threw him another withering look. Sirius was getting a lot of those recently, and he didn't appreciate it. He was asking serious questions here. "That's not how it works."

"But you do still like her."

"No. I mean, yes, as a friend—potential friend, I suppose, I don't think we're actually friends yet. She still looks at me like I'm a bug on a toilet seat. Can't bode well."

Sirius waved off his comment like it was an irksome fly. "What are you on about. Enough with this 'friends' foolery. You've liked her since fourth year. I know because you told me every other week since … fourth year."

James shrugged. "Look, mate, I dunno what to tell you, we're just trying to get along. Besides, I'm with Quinn now."

"That's still going on?" Sirius stopped momentarily in surprise. "I thought that was just, you know, part of your grieving process."

James looked over his shoulder at Sirius with amusement and shrugged again. "No, no, we're properly together."

Sirius gave James a long, funny look. Things were not normal, not since Mr. Potter's illness, not since even before that, the end of sixth year. Something had happened between James and Lily. Sirius wasn't sure if it was because of what had transpired between her and Remus, because of James's father's situation putting things into perspective, or because of something Lily said to him, but ever since the end of last year James seemed to have sworn off Lily Evans.

But Sirius didn't buy it. James was meditating on his pain, healing, adjusting to new responsibilities and realities. They all were. As the end of school loomed near, the beginning of a dark new reality did as well. Voldemort was gathering supporters outside and inside the school walls. But James would snap back. Sirius had to believe he would.

James ducked into a room to check for stragglers as Sirius idled by the door, waiting. He re-emerged a few seconds later. "Anyway, I wouldn't go for her even if I was single."

"Why?"

"Because I'm over her," James said to Sirius confidently as they resumed walking down the halls.

"Sure," Sirius said flatly, not at all convinced. James noticed, but didn't say anything. Sirius wouldn't understand. How could he? He didn't know that even if James wanted to be with Lily, that ship had sailed. He didn't know what had transpired between James and Remus that day in the hospital wing after that February full moon in their sixth year. He wasn't there when James was slapped with a newfound realization of the depths of his feelings that truly terrified him. Sirius and Remus had not been on speaking terms then. And James figured it wasn't the kind of the Remus waned to explain to Sirius. Neither did James.

* * *

_February 1977_

_Remus' face was bloodless._

_Nobody wanted to look at it, and so nobody did. Sirius was leaning on a wall, brooding quietly in the shadows, and James marveled how he was able to blend so effortlessly into the darkness. Peter was on the windowsill, staring out with a faraway look. He looked thinner than he ever had, and James supposed the instability and tension between all of them put him off his food._

_Nothing put Peter off his food. It was a daunting thought._

_James was clutching his head in hands, waiting for an excuse to walk out, but he compelled himself not to._

"_Guys?"_

_James' head snapped up._

_Remus was awake, struggling slightly to prop himself into sitting position. Usually, James would be at his side, not across him in the far corner of his room. James would be helping Remus up, not staring stupidly at him. But today was not a usual day._

"_Hey," James said hoarsely. "How are you feeling?"_

"_Same old," Remus said in a whisper. He rubbed his eyes and scrunched his face in a momentary frown. He blinked, trying to adjust to the daylight. He squinted at the room and its occupant through deep, amber eyes._

"_Up for a chat?" James asked half-jokingly. Remus nodded slowly, his expression unfathomable. Sirius and Peter exchanged a look._

"_Pete and I should get going," Sirius said quietly. Remus glanced in his direction, but neither looked straight at the other. That was something to be resolved another day. Pete nodded glumly._

"_We'll get you Charms notes," Peter told Remus. Remus nodded and smiled gratefully at Peter. Sirius didn't acknowledge Remus as the two filed out of the room. Instead, he caught eyes with James. An understanding passed between them. Sirius would have clapped James's shoulder if he could, but he changed his mind at the last second, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. The door closed behind him._

_James cleared his throat. His heart twisted as Remus lifted his eyes to meet James's._

_His thoughts exploded as he met Remus' eyes. His emotions danced in an iridescent, unsettlingly open display across his face, his expressions flowing seamlessly from one emotion to another; from anger, to sorrow, to regret, to pain. James wore his heart on his sleeve, and right now was not an exception._

_He thought back, his mind hurtling through years of memories. He tried to recall images of his friend, of Moony, ever loyal. Remus scratching notes quietly during History of Magic, his lips quirking upward in his playful half-smile as James talked animatedly beside him, Remus's witty comments and the spark of mischief James saw in his eyes when he plotted with the rest of the Marauders, Remus calmly trying to convince him to eat his toast before a match, Remus in the Shrieking Shack, his yellow wolf eyes sparkling in an odd swirl of mistrust and wonder, Remus at home after the fateful transformation, broken and covered in blood._

_A wild rush of feeling constricted James' heart and he realized that he would jump buildings for this boy, his friend, his brother, and nothing that happened could change that. Remus, with his quiet, bookish ways, his dry, cheeky humor, his unwavering empathy, the bravest person James had met, deserving of so much more than he allowed himself._

_Deserving._

_Unbidden images of flaming red hair and green eyes came to his mind in an instant. Lily Evans, who could mend and bleed his heart all in a glance. Lily doodling intricate designs on the back of her book during Transfiguration when she thought nobody was watching, Lily laughing loudly with her friends as she stood in the shallow end of the Great Lake, Lily listening concernedly as Professor McGonagall spoke of the latest victims, Lily, eyes flashing at the Slytherins as they hexed an unarmed student._

_Lily standing in front of the fire her eyes sparkling with respect and fondness. Not for him, never for him. Not now, and not then, in the common room, when James and Remus had sat completing the DADA essay, and Lily had come to enquire about her missing book. It had been Remus. Lily's eyes were on the bent head of the brown-haired boy as his pale hands continued scribbling on crinkled parchment, unaware of her._

_Not so unaware, though, if they'd kissed._

_James wanted to rip out his heart and fling it in the Great Lake._

_Because Remus deserved her. They were friends, they always had been. Lily Evans wouldn't bat an eyelash if she knew about his ailment. Lily Evans wouldn't give a toss what the others said about him. Lily Evans would never have to raise her voice, or cry, or ever be in pain, not around him. He wouldn't let her. James had disappointed her on that account so many times._

_Remus would make her proud. Remus would work hard, he would get top marks, and he wouldn't act immature, or strut, or boast. And Remus Lupin would love Lily Evans very, very much._

_The obvious was glaring at him now, and this time there was no way to avoid it. James loved Lily Evans, he wasn't sure when he had started to, but he did now. They knew that, Remus knew that, Sirius, though in denial, knew that, heck, even Peter knew. They all knew, and he never had to tell them._

_The rain outside beat in torrents._

_There was a long immeasurable silence. James licked his dry lips. "How are you feeling?" He asked again._

"_Like I could run a marathon."_

_James laughed in spite of himself at Remus's cheekiness. "Sorry, stupid question."_

"_S'alright."_

"_I wasn't there yesterday," James blurted out without a segue. It wasn't an apology. Sirius and Peter had been there. From the looks of the scars on their arms, it had been a rough night. Better Sirius than James, though. Sirius and Remus had a special kind of bond. Besides, Sirius was loyal like that, he wouldn't miss the full moon for the world, even after what had transpired between him and Remus. James, however, needed some space and he didn't think he'd have been very useful at the Shrieking Shack that night._

"_I know."_

_It was spoken carefully. Remus knew and he had accepted. An understanding passed between them. James had a right to do what he did, and Remus knew there was nothing to be forgiven now._

_Remus' eyes never wavered as he looked straight at James. Somewhere, in the background, the gesture solidified their bond in a way nothing in the past six years ever had._

"_You kissed her," James said without preamble. It had to be said, no matter what internal struggle was holding the words back in his head._

"_Yes," was Remus' even reply. He knew what James was talking about. He'd been waiting to have this conversation for a while. He broke the gaze and stared out of the window. The dappled shadows of the rain outside made his pale face shimmer._

"_Remus," James began, throat dry, "Moony, she's … she likes you. She respects you."_

_James paused, waiting for a reaction, but none came. _I don't deserve her_, he wanted to say, but this wasn't really about who deserved what._

"_It was a mistake, I didn't mean to … we shouldn't have done that. We're just friends," Remus said, struggling to find the words, still looking out the window. "Happiness and security are beyond what I could ever offer. I don't want to do that to her. She doesn't even know about my condition yet."_

"_She wouldn't care," James said defensively._

_Remus looked down at his hands. "People don't know what it's like to be with someone like me."_

"_She can decide that for herself. You can't just tell people what's better for them, you just … can't. You're as stand up a bloke as anybody I've met, and if she wants to be with you ... you can't possibly think you're not worthy of—"_

"—_It's not about what I'm worthy of," Remus interrupted, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I care about her, and I want her to be as far away from this—" he gestured at the room around him "—as possible. It's selfish."_

"_You think I'm not selfish?" James shot back. "You think I don't want her to be happy? If being with you is what makes her happy, cor, if being a bloody spinster with fifteen cats is what makes her happy, that's what I want. Sirius is a git, don't listen to him."_

"_This isn't about you or Sirius," Remus said. "It's between me and Lily."_

_James knew he was right. The choices were not his to make. He wanted to shake Remus, slap some sense into him, because he suspected Remus was punishing himself, as he always did, and it was defeating to realize that six years of friendship had not changed Remus' mind about his affliction._

_But James knew ultimately, it was up to Remus to see himself as worthy of love. This world had not allowed him to reach that conclusion himself, but it was a conclusion that he, James, could not force on him._

_Remus continued, "I care about her. And so do you." Remus' gaze turned back to his, "And maybe she'll care about you back someday."_

"_Not today though," James said glumly._

"_No," Remus agreed with a snort, "Not today."_

"_So_ _you don't … you don't want to be with her?"_

_Remus' silence rang of his conformity. And then, in earnest, he said, "No, I don't."_

_James closed his eyes briefly, but it wasn't relief or happiness that he felt. The air was clearing and the rain had slowed, trickling down the windows and washing away the dirt and grime and pain. Remus would find somebody someday. Somebody who wouldn't care about his condition. Somebody who would love him unconditionally. It was just a matter of Remus allowing it to happen. It was a matter of him finding the courage to let somebody in._

_But today, it seemed, wasn't the day._

_When James looked up, Remus had that familiar half-smile playing on his lips, his dimple twinkling._

* * *

There was a lull of silence between Sirius and James, broken only by the occasional outburst from a portrait on the wall. It was past dinner time, and the school halls were deserted. Moonlight shone through the tall windows, blending with the dim orange flare from the torches that mounted the stone walls. It was on its way to becoming a full moon.

_Speaking of Remus_, Sirius thought to himself. He turned to James. "Okay, assume for a moment I believe you, that you're not into her anymore. You're still far from, you know, being friends. I mean she hates your guts, mate. I'm not a prefect but I hear stories."

James narrowed his eyes as he looked sideways at Sirius. "Did Moony put you up to this?"

Sirius tried to look unfazed. The prefect touch was a bit overdone. "Maybe. I mean … so even if he did. You realize he feels like he has to keep the peace, right?"

"Yeah," James said, burying his hands in his pockets and he stared at the floor moodily. "I know. It's just … we're both overworked. You know? We're both going through a lot."

"So are your prefects. So is the rest of the school. You can't keep bickering."

"You think I don't know that?" James snapped, glaring at Sirius. "Why do you care, anyway? You hate all this Head Boy stuff."

Sirius just shrugged. "Shit's hitting the fan, I know. But you knew that when you accepted the badge. You're not just another student anymore."

"I'm not sure what you want me to do. I'm balancing a lot right now, in case you didn't notice. There's a bloody war on the horizon."

Sirius immediately let out a humorless laugh. "Prongs, I'm sorry, but that's bull. You can't use the _war_ as your excuse for being a prick. You're as pureblood as they get, with loads of money to boot. What do you have to be scared about?"

James looked like he'd been slapped. "_Excuse me_? That's rich coming from the literal spawn of You-Know-Who's inner circle. You spent all of last _year_ moping about that."

"I got disowned," Sirius reminded him coldly.

"At least your family is alive," James retorted.

"So is yours," Sirius snapped, "Last I checked Mr. Potter had a pulse."

"My father is _demented_, you tosser."

"And my father wouldn't give a hippogriff's hairy backside if I was. I'm _basically_ dead to them."

They had stopped walking and were now glaring at each other defiantly, the air crackling between them.

"Look," Sirius said through gritted teeth, "Whatever happened with my family, I _never_ pretended I was a casualty of the war. I left them because it was about bloody time. So yeah, I lost some money and parents I never had in the first place. But you and I don't have to walk the halls wondering what pureblood maniac is going to jump out and attack us. And as long as we're talking about being attacked, I'm more likely to be beat up by my depraved cousins than you or any of the other purebloods in this school."

Seconds ticked by. James was the first to lower his gaze, and the tension ebbed in tandem with his temper.

"You're right," he admitted, subdued, his shoulders slumping.

Sirius reached out and clutched James's shoulder. His voice was gentler. "Lily Evans is a bitch—and I mean that in the most takes-nobody's-shit, good kind of way. She doesn't need you to protect her. But I'm sure she could use some backup, you know, while she fears for her life."

Sirius dropped his arm. "So, I dunno, step it up. Be the thing in her life she doesn't need to worry about."

James nodded slowly, and then snorted. "When did you get so wise."

"Once I stopped listening to you," Sirius grinned. He did seem to have fared better with James, although he personally considered his assistance of Peter a success. Remus would be proud.


End file.
